Winds of the Ashfall: An Elder Scrolls Tale
by SuperGreG
Summary: Seventy one years after the Oblivion Crisis and nearly thirty years since the events of the Infernal City. A Dunmer from Cheydinhal's Fighters Guild departs in search of persons he'd believed long since gone. What remains of the homeland bears just passing resemblance to the Morrowind of old.
1. Chapter 1

Foreword:

Seventy one years after the Oblivion Crisis and nearly thirty years since the events of the Infernal City. A Dunmer from Cheydinhal's Fighters Guild departs in search of persons he'd believed long since gone. What remains of the homeland bears just passing resemblance to the Morrowind of old.

Authors note: With some artistic license, all reasonable effort made to maintain _general_ parity with _existing_ canon established in Morrowind, Oblivion, The Infernal City/Lord of Souls, and Skyrim.

Rated M for mild adult content.

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Although it should go without needing to be stated, let it be said: Bethesda owns The Elder Scrolls and all related materials. I am merely contributing my own interpretations in a public forum and no profit is derived or intended from my work.

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Additional note: This story loosely follows on from my previous tales. However, effort has been made to allow this story to function as fully stand-alone.

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Winds of the Ashfall: An Elder Scrolls Tale

Greg J Miller

~O~

Chapter 1

Fredas the 26th of Last Seed 4E71 Dusk

After just a week in that particular place, the bleak aspect of that part of his former homeland had again begun to make him long for the dappled streets and lazy waterways of Cheydinhal. A restrained chuckle emerged as something more akin to a snort. Alaron Suvaris was again reminded that he'd long ago given up on the notion of thinking of any part of Morrowind as home. Added to that, it was fair to consider that much of the homeland had certainly become rather more dismal than the central Imperial province. Perhaps, it was more the case that he found it mildly surprising and oddly amusing that he'd come to think of Cheydinhal of home, rather than just a place where he'd been living.

Certainly, the city of Cheydinhal hosted a greater singular concentration of the eastern dark-elves than any other part of Cyrodiil or even any other province of Tamriel outside of Morrowind. Still, Cheydinhal was not truly the homeland of the Dunmer people. It was just a place where a great many of his people had come to make a new home.

Alaron Suvaris had still been a young Dunmer when he'd first left the homeland behind. Though perhaps just barely halfway through his likely lifespan, some days he felt far older. More than six decades had passed since those terrible matters far beyond his influence came to pass, leaving him on his own. He didn't like to often think about those things. At least not those specific details which had affected him directly.

Of course, all of Morrowind had been greatly affected by those circumstances. The tales of many Dunmer were not really so different from his own. Some tales might have seemed to have turned out somewhat better. Some, far worse. Many more did not live through those darker days of the past to tell their tales at all.

Without shifting from his wooden chair, Suvaris looked over toward the dirty windowpane. He could see that it was already dark outside. He couldn't tell whether the drizzle had fully ceased or otherwise.

Earlier in the day, the squally winds had still been driving the sporadic rainfall toward the other side of the building, much like the day before. However by late afternoon, it did look like the worst of it was just about over. At least, he hoped that it was the case.

He imagined that the weather must surely be more pleasant in other parts. Even so close to the northern Sea of Ghosts, he hadn't expected the last days of the summer to be quite so inclement. To his thinking, the past week had seemed far more like the end of autumn, about to give way to a grim winter.

Back in Cheydinhal, the annual Harvest's End festival would be taking place the next day. With all the local farmers coming to the city, there would be vibrant celebrations in the streets and the taverns would be offering free drinks all day. It would be much the same in all the major cities across Cyrodiil and many other places located further afield. However, things like that no longer appeared to be the case in the homeland. Even within the new capital of Morrowind, it seemed that festivals of that kind had fallen well by the wayside over the past years.

The noises coming from beneath his room momentarily drew his attention. The volume of those sounds emanating from the tavern area rose and fell like lazy waves rolling upon an open beach. He'd employed the foresight to take a meal a little earlier, before things grew busy downstairs. Even so, he could expect that he would still need to endure the din coming from below for a few hours before it might subside.

He looked over to the pile of books sitting upon the small table in the rented room. Of course by then, he'd already read through them all. Even those ones that he'd found of little interest. He supposed that a brief visit to that book store he'd noticed in the Blacklight marketplace might be a good idea. He resolved to try to make the time to do that before departing the city.

Suvaris rubbed the side of his face. He noted that it still felt relatively smooth to the touch. Since idle time had been in abundance, he'd taken the opportunity to cleanly shave away the accumulation of bristles just the day before. Like many male Dunmer, he did prefer to maintain that cleaner look and feel. Given that the males of most of the elven peoples were not particular hairy, it was a rare individual who might cultivate a full beard or the like.

It was certainly true enough that some Dunmer and Bosmer could grow a respectable beard or moustache or something of the kind. However, Suvaris doubted that his wispy bristles could ever be groomed into anything that might be considered respectable. He found it far less trouble to just maintain a clean-shaven appearance.

Pausing to think about it, he suddenly realised that he had actually observed more than a few of his fellow Dunmer sporting beards of some description during the past weeks. Not necessarily anything like some of those boisterous Nords of the north, but still beards nonetheless. He wondered if it had recently become a matter of fashion across Morrowind.

Another idle thought came to mind. He recalled that it remained unusual to see an Altmer with any facial hair. Though he imagined that particular circumstance was more likely something related to a sustained contempt for the Nords, along with the Colovians and Nibenese of Imperial Cyrodiil. After all, it had been those bearded humans of the first era who they blamed for the fall of ancient elven rule. Suvaris did not really share that sentiment. Some of his nearest friends and comrades in arms were Nordic or Imperial.

Glancing again toward the window, he noticed how the soot on the outside of the glass pane made it appear something like a darkened mirror. By the lamplight, the reflection gazing back at him almost looked like someone else.

The colouring of the face gazing back at him appeared nearly as dark as the expensive ebony armour he wore. As did his neatly cropped head of hair. Of course like most Dunmer, his skin was clearly gray-toned. However, it was fair to note that his colouring was really far more on the paler shade of gray than some other dark-elves.

Instead of the normal blood red eyes typical of any Dunmer, those eyes staring back seemed almost black in the window's reflection. Of course, that aberration was nothing more than an odd trick of the light.

The imperfect reflection in the pane also slightly distorted his shape, making him seem somewhat more lean and wiry than he truly was. The points of his long ears even seemed just a little longer than he knew them to be. His long and narrow nose also appeared exaggerated, as did the slightly down-turned hook at the end. The light somehow caught that long faded scar marking his left cheek above the jaw line, making it seem more prominent than usual. Another odd shadow made it seem as though his arched brows were far more pronounced that they really were. Unlike some of his people, the ridges above his brows were hardly so pronounced or notable. Perhaps only slightly more prominent than those of a human.

Tuning out those noises coming from below, his mind again drifted to thoughts of how he'd come to be in that place at that time. By then, Suvaris had been back in Morrowind for several weeks and had travelled some distance during that time. He'd still yet to actually make it to the place he'd originally set out for. The vagaries of detail behind those circumstances that led him there did serve to diminish the urgency, but he'd originally expected the excursion to pass more quickly.

During his travels, he'd been sidetracked twice in aid of others in need and then managed to end up without that horse that served him so well for much longer than he ever expected. Of course, the story of that journey really began in Cheydinhal.

It had been during the summer months when he'd heard those surprising details from a travelling trader. He'd been taking a meal at the Cheydinhal Bridge Inn when a Dunmer merchant from the homeland had overheard the barkeep referring to him by name. That stranger interrupted, introducing himself as a trader by the name of Ralas and then mentioned that he'd recently met someone passing through Mournhold going by the name of Suvaris.

Given what Alaron Suvaris understood, that information really did come as something of a surprise to him. In fact, he remained rather sceptical. Suvaris was not a common family name at all. To the best of his recollection, he'd not heard of anyone else outside of his immediate family and as far as he knew, he was the last surviving member.

The trader suggested that he thought they might be related, since the younger lad he'd met had a similar look to him. He thought that his given name was either Talvon or Tralvon, or something similar.

Though Suvaris held no knowledge of such a person, that specific detail did pique his curiosity. His younger brother's name had been Travlon Suvaris. Of course, his brother would have been near to his own age, had he not perished fleeing from the family farmlands. Even his brother's son would have been in his late sixties, had he lived to that day. Not so old for a Dunmer, but hardly a younger lad. Still, as far as he reasonably knew, no one else had survived.

Alaron Suvaris had pressed the trader for further detail and though he had been amiably forthcoming, he had little more to offer. He hadn't known exactly where that other Suvaris was from. He suspected that he must come to old Mournhold often enough, since he seemed perfectly familiar with the place. The lad had asked about the trader's wares, but purchased nothing, mentioning no more than his name in passed greeting. That had taken place about two months earlier. Other than that, the trader really knew nothing of value.

For a number of days afterward, Suvaris periodically pondered over what that travelling trader had told him. The mystery of why there might be a Dunmer by that particular name travelling the homeland had been gently nibbling away at his thoughts. He could imagine a few plausible explanations. He could even imagine just a few somewhat more unlikely possibilities. Of course, one reasonable conclusion would have been that there was indeed another branch of the Suvaris line, of which he held no knowledge.

However, another set of rationalisations provided him with a rather distinct sense of unease, or perhaps something of an odd blend of melancholy and restrained hopefulness. He'd been led to believe that neither his own children nor his nephew had survived all those years ago, just as everyone else of his family had perished. However, if any of those children had lived, he imagined that one of them might have named a son Travlon.

Of course, Suvaris had tried to expel those particular notions from his mind, treating them as no more than wishful folly. However like some kinds of hardy vines, once planted in fertile ground, there were certain ideas that just had a way of taking hold and then spreading in unwanted ways.

In due course, he'd finally decided that he really needed to know one way or the other, if it were at all possible. It was one thing to remain in complete ignorance, but if there was some possibility that someone of his immediate family lived still, then he really did feel the need to properly investigate that possibility.

After completing his current contract with the Cheydinhal Fighters Guild, Suvaris had a brief word with Drals Vedran, the long serving Guildhead of that Guildhall. He didn't go into specific detail with Vedran, speaking of no more than necessary.

Though both were fellow Dunmer of a similar age, background and skill-set, there had never been any warm feelings between those two. Even so, there had always been a measure of mutual respect between them.

During the many years that he'd served with the Guild in Cheydinhal, Suvaris had never demonstrated any interest in administrative leadership, even declining options when the position of second had been vacant. Still, though he'd never speak of it, Suvaris suspected that Vedran might have viewed him as a threat to his position with the Guild. Or perhaps, it was more that he viewed Suvaris' shunning of seeking seniority as an objection to his own position of authority. It might well have just been a clash of personalities. In any case, Suvaris had never allowed it to get in the way of his work.

Though Vedran appeared openly annoyed, he offered no vocal objection to Suvaris' intent to take an extended leave from the Guildhall to investigate a personal matter back in the homeland. He merely conceded that the other Guild Fighters would probably be sufficient to attend to any matters that arose and wished Suvaris luck with his task. Somehow, he still managed to make his words of courtesy sound insincere, but that was hardly out of character.

Before departing, Suvaris otherwise confided only with that younger Dunmer who he'd previously mentored at Cheydinhal's Guildhall. Arvon Aldreth was the son of one of the guards serving in Cheydinhal's city watch. By that time, Aldreth had become a skilled Guild Fighter in his own right. Though Suvaris was friendly enough with his other comrades at the Guildhall, Aldreth was perhaps the only one he truly considered as a close friend.

Arvon had actually offered to come along with him, partly since he'd never been to Morrowind before and also in part as an offer of friendly support. However, Suvaris politely declined, insisting that he'd very much preferred to see to his task on his own.

Accordingly, with some travelling supplies and an adequate cache of gold coin on hand, Suvaris quietly slipped away from the city on the following day.

A sense of growing discomfort rising from his belly suddenly interrupted his train of thought. He briefly considered that something he'd eaten earlier had proven more volatile than expected or was perhaps not quite as fresh as it seemed.

With a measure of annoyance, he rose from his chair. He was mostly annoyed because he'd decided that the chamber pot would likely be inadequate to the task and that meant that he was headed for the downstairs bathroom. That also meant navigating his way through the rowdy and likely inebriated crowd of patrons in the tavern.

~O~


	2. Chapter 2

Winds of the Ashfall: An Elder Scrolls Tale

Greg J Miller

~O~

Chapter 2

Fredas the 26th of Last Seed 4E71 Early Evening

Returning to his rented room situated on the upper level of the Baan Malur Oad Inn, Alaron Suvaris cast an eye about the modest space before removing his heavy boots and then settling back into that chair near the single window.

He was feeling notably better after the visit to the downstairs bathroom. Though he remained none the wiser as to what had upset his stomach, he was glad that no other lingering effect was indicated. He idly suspected that perhaps he'd just grown far too accustomed to the more mundane repasts of Imperial Cyrodiil and that some local ingredient of that stew had unexpectedly disagreed with him. In any event, it was of no further concern to him, or at least he hoped that was the case.

Down in the tavern area below, he'd done his best to avoid becoming entangled in the activities of the rowdy patrons. A liberally intoxicated drunkard lingering by the bathroom provided some measure of obstruction, albeit only briefly. Though evidently a friendly drunk, Suvaris was most definitely not of a mood for that kind of thing at that moment.

On his way back, a boisterous difference of convictions between two tables of opinionated Dunmer threatened to erupt into an open brawl. However, it seemed to subside just as quickly as it began, ending with some more sober individual raising a toast to a matter of common interest. Though perhaps less threatening, they remained just as noisy.

Without incident, Suvaris was soon back in the solitude and relative quiet of his rented room and contemplating the remainder of the evening ahead.

With another heavy sigh, he again glanced toward that pile of books that he'd already read through. Though he intended to rise early the next morning, it was still far too early to consider turning in for the night. With nothing else to occupy his mind, his thoughts again drifted back to those events of the past few weeks.

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The better part of three weeks beforehand, riding upon his dark mare, Suvaris set off from Cheydinhal in the early morning of a late summer's day. The weather had been fair and mild under the relatively clear blue skies. A few fluffy clouds drifted overhead, presenting as nothing of any particular concern.

From Cheydinhal, he rode his horse along to the north-east to take the old Septim's Gate Pass into Morrowind. That rough road crossed the mountains near the point where the range of the Valus Mountains merged with the Velothi Mountains to the north. He would have preferred to have travelled the other route further south, since it was nearer to his first intended destination. However, the Shadowgate Pass had still been blocked from recent landslides at that time.

Even though it was not really so far, the winding path through the mountainous terrain ensured that it took the better part of a day just to arrive at the village of Mountain Watch, situated just below the pass. Though he'd spotted a lone wolf and heard a bear bellowing in the distance along the way, that first leg of the journey passed without incident.

Some small number of traders did pass through Mountain Watch from time to time, but the small village was not really set up for accommodating travellers. There was no inn or the like there. There was nothing more than a makeshift general store at the roadside, near the modest farmhouses of the village. Even the Imperial soldiers posted at the border marker above the village made do with a partially enclosed structure, serving as their post.

Sheltering by the open hearth at the guard post with the Imperial soldiers, Suvaris stayed the night at that place, then continued onward the next morning.

If would have been a different matter travelling that mountain pass during the winter, but at that time of year, some slightly chilly winds had been the worst of it. Some snow-capped peaks remained in view, but not much sign of that sort of thing near to the highland pass.

Several decades had passed by since he'd last seen that region beyond the mountains. The eastern descent from the pass hardly seemed so different from the western slopes on the Cyrodiil side of the mountains.

The upper parts of those highlands remained dominated by the forests of pine that gradually became more dense the further downhill the path progressed. A few patches of aspen offered defiant challenge to the pines in places. It was some way before any trees native only to Morrowind could be seen. In those uplands, there were very few plants of the varieties more common to areas adapted to regular ashfall. The giant mushrooms of some parts remained somewhat rare in those western highlands.

After descending from the mountains and passing through the highland forests of western Morrowind, onto the more sparsely wooded uplands immediately below, he eventually reached the old township of Bodrum. Though it had also passed without incident, encountering no one or no trouble along the way, that journey down the mountainside took just as long as the previous day's ride from Cheydinhal.

He'd already been advised to avoid taking the road nearest to the Inner Sea at that time, due to recent occurrences, so he intended to take the alternative route located a little further south. After stopping at Bodrum for just one night, Suvaris followed the road southward toward the city of Kragenmoor on the next day.

Of course even on horseback, the ride to that city took a full day. From what he remembered of years gone by, he'd fully expected that to be the case. Leaving before the dawn was still not enough to arrive at that destination before the sun had set.

He thought that he'd heard the strange noises of wild Nix-hounds at one point along the road, but they'd evidently been too far off to be of any concern. Those odd creatures were nothing at all like hounds or wolves, but they could be just as dangerous in a pack. Aside from a pair of travelling traders headed northbound who wanted to stop for a brief chat, he'd encountered nothing along the road to directly impede his progress.

Without much surprise, he'd already taken casual note of just how quiet the roads seemed in that part of the homeland. Still, it did stand as a notable contrast to the major routes of Cyrodiil. Even outside of the major cities, it was not at all uncommon to encounter Legion patrols along the roads. There seemed little indication of the like throughout the west of Morrowind.

Though he'd not encountered many individuals during that first portion of his travels, he imagined that he must have stood out at an outsider to those few he did. If not strictly marking him as a foreign Dunmer, his expensive weapons and ebony armour probably made him appear as though he came from nobility or the like. Added to that, it seemed that riders upon horseback had become a far less common sight upon the roads of Morrowind. It was fair to assume that riders upon lean black horses of that breed would have been an even rarer sight. Of course, there was nothing of nobility in Suvaris' background. Even so, he recognised that his outward appearance seemingly told a different story.

The individuals he'd encountered thus far appeared far more common and outwardly absent of prosperity. Just as it had been years earlier, it was not unusual to see travelling traders or farmers hauling produce, utilising a guar to draw small carts. It was more common to see them on foot leading pack-guar loaded up with bundles. Those two-legged reptilian creatures were as docile as castrated oxen and just as strong and reliable for such purpose.

Upon his arrival at Kragenmoor, what little Suvaris saw of the city that evening had been wholly unfamiliar to him. Still, he'd been far too weary at the time to give it much thought. After stabling his mount, he quickly found a place to eat and rest for the night.

Even in the morning light, Kragenmoor hardly seemed at all like the city he'd known from his youth. The outline of the fortified palace of the upper city appeared outwardly unchanged, for the most part. However, the same could not be easily said of the remainder of the city. Only the general layout of the streets appeared recognisable, with some exception here and there. Certainly, there were far fewer structures in view than he recalled from times long past. Added to that, a good number of those places appeared just as rudimentary as that shabby tavern he'd stayed at the night before.

To the best of his knowledge, that locality had not been in the direct path of that flying city from an Oblivion realm. Around three decades earlier, that object said to have been called 'Umbriel', had sailed across the skies cutting a path from the location of Lilmoth on the southern coast of Argonia to where Vivec City once stood. From there, it turned about and sailed directly for the Imperial City in the heart of Cyrodiil.

Along that line, Cheydinhal stood directly in the path. Any living creature along that path had been consumed and transformed to join the army of undead marching along in the city's wake. With just barely enough warning, most of the inhabitants of Cheydinhal had been evacuated ahead of the crisis. He understood that there would have been other places that had not fared near as well.

Only once he'd stopped to think about it, he considered that Bodrum would have probably also been in the path of that particular disaster. No one there had made mention of it and he supposed that it was something best not discussed.

Over the centuries, that small town had been broken and rebuilt more times than he could reasonably recall. Still, he imagined that Kragenmoor had probably suffered most of its recent woes during the events of around the time that he'd departed the homeland. Still, it seemed as though the passing decades had provided little in the way of any return to prosperity.

Suvaris didn't pause long to ponder over those things. He'd quickly collected his horse from the local smith's stabling facilities and then continued on his way, taking the main road southward.

Along that road, he'd passed by the neglected trail that he knew led to the location of the old family farmlands. There was nothing there any more but ruins and empty land. At least, as far as he knew. Certainly, nothing there for him.

Well beyond that point, that southbound road eventually arrived at Narsis or whatever remained of that place. Though he'd been quite familiar with both the road and that southern city during his younger days, he was confident that neither would be at all familiar after all that time. The events of earlier decades would have seen to that.

In any case, Suvaris was not headed that far south. He intended only to travel as far the fork in the road, at what remained of the Andrenthis township, then turn northward again.

Looking upon a map, by the flight of the crow, his journey did not really seem quite so far or nearly as time consuming. However, the rise and fall of the terrain and resultant path of the roads dictated his travel. If not for the current circumstances disrupting travel by that road near to the Inner Sea, he would have taken a more direct route.

Aside from seemingly travelling contrary to his intended direction, that journey again passed with little trouble. An encounter with a relatively harmless creature along the road had not done too much to delay his progress. He eventually arrived at that next location along his journey in fair time.

As anticipated, Andrenthis of the Fourth Era hardly qualified as the booming township it had once been only decades before. It seemed to survive only upon passing trade and even that would have been greatly reduced from those events of times gone by.

By then, the old Andrenthis farming communities had been rebuilt at another location over in the next valley, a little further east. He'd only learned that particular detail from the grumbling barkeep in the run-down inn at the township. Some of their regular supplies came from those farms.

After departing from Andrenthis the next morning, he continued northward along that road. He was bound for the trail that led to the ferry crossing to take him eastward across the River Thir. Of course, that broad and lazing river marked the dividing line between the west and the east of mainland Morrowind. Since he was not headed for Old Ebonheart, situated by the mouth of the river, that particular route with the ferry crossing was the best way to travel at that time. Apparently, that lesser path had become far more important since the calamities of several decades before.

He understood that there had been a small township near that river crossing at some time in the past. Though he'd never observed any trace of it, there was also said to have once been a sturdy bridge over the river at that place. In the back of his mind, he recalled vague mention of great floods of the River Thir affecting settlements along its length, but specifics remained unclear.

He also recalled reading of other past extremes in that region. It was said that during the Alliance Wars of eight centuries before, severe droughts had caused long sections of the Thir to become dry and barren. There was some other mention of lava flows from the eastern slopes of Tormented Spire affecting the Thir so badly that even the northernmost section did not reach the Inner Sea at that time.

Suvaris found it difficult to imagine either of those extremes. He'd seen the river in mild flood, but never as a raging torrent. He'd never witnessed any sort of drought that could possibly approach what was described in those historical tomes.

In any case, from what he'd been told, after taking the barge across the Thir to the Central Plain, that old trail was meant to join up with the road not so far from the ancient Othrenis Necropolis. From there, he could follow the roads and eventually reach what remained of the city of Mournhold.

Up to that point, his journey along the roads had proved relatively uneventful and trouble free. At the time, he'd been hoping that his luck would continue to hold.

However, Suvaris had not even made it as far as the river crossing. Along that trail, he'd encountered a group of travellers in distress. At first, they'd regarded him with defensive hostility, thinking him to be a roadside bandit of some sort. Given the apparent injuries of one of the male Dunmer of the group, as well as one of their pack-guar, there appeared some fair reason for their apprehension.

Once Suvaris had clearly identified himself as Fighters Guild from Cheydinhal, tensions appeared to gradually ease, with just something of a notable hesitation. Though the Fighters Guild hardly maintained any presence in Morrowind since the decades following the Oblivion Crisis, mention of the Guild still carried some weight.

With immediate tensions relieved, though his knowledge of healing magic was rather limited compared to some, Suvaris did his best to provide some assistance. It turned out that the older Dunmer female of the group was more skilled in that regard. She just hadn't yet had the opportunity to heal the injured.

After proper introductions, Suvaris learned that they were all members of the Faryon family. The family name held no special meaning to him. From appearances, they were likely commoners of no notable standing, much like himself. He learned that the members of the caravan of extended family consisted of a husband and wife with two offspring, another two adult Dunmer related to the husband and a family matron.

They'd spoken of how their group had been set upon by a pair of raiders just a few hours before, not so far from the river crossing. They'd survived only by running away at sustained speed. Apparently, those bandits held little interest in lengthy pursuit, or perhaps they'd been less motivated to engage in elevated aggression with those two children clinging to the guar.

Suvaris felt motivated to go deal with the brigands. However, the family begged him to instead provide escort, insisting that they'd serve payment from what little they possessed.

Though not particularly interested in payment, he reluctantly agreed to accompany the travellers to safety. He soon learned that they they'd been bound for the border with Cyrodiil, intending to travel to Cheydinhal. At first, he'd consented only to escort them as far as Andrenthis, recommending that they travel with the next passing traders. However, he'd eventually been convinced to take them as far as Kragenmoor, where they were more likely to quickly meet up with trade caravans.

During the subsequent travel, he'd heard how that family had come from a small village situated to the south-east of Old Ebonheart, in the shadow of Ash Mountain. Along with the most recent problems of living near to the periodically toxic Inner Sea, the related hardships of living in that region, and so often hearing of a better life west of the mountains, they'd been moved to finally pack up and leave for greener lands.

Though he'd hardly been expecting any fortuitous surprises, he did ask them whether they'd ever encountered anyone by the family name of Suvaris before. None of them had.

Despite some modest protest, upon reaching Kragenmoor, Suvaris was forced to accept some coin along with a handful of trinkets for his service. In return, he did offer some further travelling advice and the names of some people in Cheydinhal they might speak with upon their arrival. In parting company, he wished them the best of luck.

* * *

Suvaris' thoughts were suddenly disturbed by a noisy uproar coming from the tavern directly below. He distractedly looked toward the floor as he heard a loud bang. He suspected that a drunken brawl might have just started. Especially with so many sailors in the crowded tavern.

After just a moment, a loud cheer rang out, followed by raucous laughter. If he didn't know better, he might have thought that it was an unruly group of Nords down there. In any case, given that another few outbursts of laughter could be heard, it seemed that whatever was going on, it couldn't have been too much in the way of real trouble.

Nevertheless, he still found the disturbance to be annoying. He idly wondered just how late it would be before things settled down enough to make the likelihood of sleeping possible.

~O~


	3. Chapter 3

Winds of the Ashfall: An Elder Scrolls Tale

Greg J Miller

~O~

Chapter 3

Fredas the 26th of Last Seed 4E71 Late Evening

Doing his best to ignore the persistent sounds from the noisy tavern below, Alaron Suvaris returned to pondering the events of the past few weeks since he'd departed Cheydinhal.

After having safely escorted the Faryon family to Kragenmoor, his intent returned to his previous plan and soon enough Suvaris was resuming his roundabout eastward journey toward his intended destination.

Travelling the road from Kragenmoor to Andrenthis for the second time passed just as easily as before. To his thinking, that path was already beginning to become a little more familiar than he'd expected. Even so, upon that second attempt he managed to get only a little further before he'd been presented with yet another unanticipated delay.

With the River Thir finally in view, Suvaris came upon another troubling set of circumstances ahead. Upon the rough road, laid two bloodied bodies in rather poor quality leather armour. Weapons were on the ground nearby. One of the bodies had been partly disembowelled and the stench on the wind seemed notably distasteful. The reason for the carnage was not immediately obvious.

His attention had been swiftly drawn toward strange animal noises coming from a copse of giant mushrooms just off the northern side of the road. It wasn't a tall fungal forest like in some places. Though broad across the caps, the largest of the mushrooms were barely taller than a head's height.

The animal noise had firstly confused him. He'd not heard the like in years. He spotted a two-legged reptilian creature of brown and grey colouring. It was facing away from him. With that short and stubby tail, it was obviously not a guar. It took him a moment to properly realise that it was not just a large alit, which was his first assumption. As it turned a little, he spotted the mottled bony crest upon its huge head and the large tusks protruding from its toothy jaws. Kagouti were even more dangerous than alit.

His first instinct had been to evade the creature, if at all possible. However, he soon observed the reason for the beast's rowdy behaviour. A pair of seemingly unarmed and helpless Dunmer were precariously perched upon the top of one of the large mushrooms. That was how he came to meet that Atheron lad and his pregnant wife.

Quickly dismounting his horse, Suvaris drew his blades in preparation of dealing with the kagouti. The creature had spotted him right away. Before he had the opportunity to properly plan his engagement, the beast had fully turned about and charged. Suvaris managed to dodge aside and land a slicing blow upon the creature's rugged hide. To his mild surprise, the kagouti did not persist with the confrontation. It just kept running and soon disappeared over the hill on the other side of the road.

Unfortunately, his dark mare had not been so quick to get out of the way. Though evidently only a glancing strike, it appeared that a tusk had left a nasty gouge along his mount's hind leg. It hadn't seemed enough to cripple the horse, but swift treatment would be required.

As Suvaris examined his agitated horse and applied some basic healing magic, those other two scrambled down from atop the mushroom, then retrieved their abandoned packs from the bushes before approaching him.

The Atheron lad appeared enthusiastically grateful. His pregnant wife remained somewhat more apprehensive. In order to alleviate any possible concerns, Suvaris immediately identified himself as Cheydinhal Fighters Guild. They appeared only slightly confused over that declaration, but mostly at ease.

After introducing themselves, the youthful husband went on to quickly relate the broad strokes of what had occurred. They'd been accosted along the road by those two ruffians, when that kagouti emerged. What followed appeared obvious enough. The bandits had evidently fared poorly against the beast. The other two running for safety had provoked the creature to give chase, instead of remaining with the fresh kills upon the road. Of course, the young couple got no further than where they'd been perched when Suvaris arrived.

Beyond introductions, nothing else was discussed at first. Once he was satisfied that the kagouti wasn't immediately returning, with the assistance of the Atheron lad, Suvaris shifted the bloodied bodies of the raiders a short distance off the side of the road.

Given that they'd been no more than roadside bandits preying upon the innocent, they hardly deserved any further consideration. Nature would take its course, either with the assistance of that kagouti or some other predator or scavenger.

Suvaris hadn't been at all surprised when Atheron and his wife tried to persuade him to accept payment to escort them on their journey. He remained a little reluctant at first, but found it difficult to ignore the plea. Much like the previous occasion, he'd firstly only agreed to escort them to the safety of the nearest town, Andrenthis.

Given her mild injury, he elected not to ride his mare along the road back to town. His efforts at healing had closed the wound, but the horse wasn't as young as she used to be and it seemed that the gash had extended a short way into muscle. Even with healing spells, he'd expected that it might take at least a day or more for the horse to fully recover.

That evening at the town, Suvaris wasn't so surprised when the Atherons tried to convince him to accept payment to escort them further on their journey. The lad didn't seem to have a lot of gold, but he was willing to pay whatever it would cost to secure his protection. His wife seemed slightly more reluctant to part with their modest savings, but was equally concerned over the journey ahead after the experiences of that day.

Though it seemed contrary to his purpose, Suvaris was more easily swayed than he might have expected. In part, he was feeling a little guilty over the relatively easier life he'd lived in the Imperial province over several decades. There were no travelling merchants at the town at that time and it seemed that the Atherons might not be inclined to wait around for any. Added to all that, he could not abide the thought of a pregnant Dunmer coming to harm because he refused to offer aid. Accordingly, he agreed to accompany them to the city of Kragenmoor, just as he'd done with the Faryon family.

Along the way to Kragenmoor, Suvaris learned more from the Atherons. They told him that they originally hailed from Davon's Watch. He was reminded that some locals still referred to that area by that ancient name. They came from the coastal farmlands about the small town of Darnim Watch, near where the larger township of Davon's Watch once stood, to the eastern side of Ash Mountain.

Given that the Atheron lad was so talkative, he'd heard quite a bit from him. The recent troubles affecting the seas about Old Ebonheart had brought notable secondary affects to all the coastal region of Stonefalls. There were no ships currently arriving at the old docks north of Darnim Watch. At that time, the only trade was coming overland and not in any great quantity.

Until fairly recently, the Atheron lad had been alternating between dock work and farming work. Of course, there was no activity at the docks at all and the opportunity of working the farms had been just as lean of late. They'd managed to stash away some modest savings ahead of time. However, it was not going to be nearly enough for what lay ahead.

With a child on the way, they'd firstly chosen to leave Darmin Watch behind and try their luck to the south at Mournhold. However, they'd soon learned that it hardly seemed a safer place for their purposes. Added to that, it seemed that there were no better work opportunities than what they'd just left behind.

From travelling merchants and others, they'd heard far more favourable mention of the state of affairs around Morrowind's newer capital. The dominant protection of House Redoran was said to have made it perhaps one of the safest cities of the land. It was certainly one of the furthest centres from the border with Argonia, not that there had been great concern on that matter over past decades.

Two other factors sounded directly favourable by Atheron's estimate. He'd heard that the farmlands located west of Blacklight did quite well most years. He also understood that the docks of that city were said to be the busiest of any port in Morrowind.

With all of that in mind, they'd set off for Blacklight before it became too difficult to make the journey. Trying to conserve their funds, they'd chosen to travel alone. The truly unwise aspect of that decision had become clear after crossing the Thir. They'd been quite lucky beforehand, but the events of that particular day near the River Thir had dramatically shifted their perspective.

All the way to Kragenmoor, the Atheron lad hardly stopped talking. His knowledge of matters regarding a broader spread of Morrowind seemed rather limited, but that didn't discourage him at all from speaking of what little he did know. The only small victory came with finally convincing Atheron to stop addressing him as 'Sera' or 'Muthsera' and instead use his name.

Suvaris would occasionally still hear such honorifics from other Dunmer in Cyrodiil, but it had become less common over the decades. Even though some number of his people had come to the Imperial province relatively recently, an increasing number had passed most of their lives there, if not their whole lives since birth. Many of the younger generation were less interested in maintaining the Dunmeri traditions of their parents.

Atheron had also asked Suvaris to tell them of the Dunmer living in Cyrodiil. He appeared particularly interested in hearing about Cheydinhal. He'd also inquired of the Dunmeri capital in the north. Of course, Suvaris knew little more of Blacklight than either Atheron of his wife. He'd not been there since long before leaving Morrowind.

After a while, Suvaris was really beginning grow weary of hearing the clipped rural accent. He'd not previously realised just how much his own accent had faded from several decades of living among the Imperials of Cyrodiil. He'd almost been hoping for some sort of trouble along the road, if only to necessitate a break from the constant chatter. However, aside from hearing distant animal noises upon a number of occasions, the journey to Kragenmoor passed without danger.

By the time that they'd finally reached the city that evening, Atheron had fully worn him down and Suvaris reluctantly agreed to accompany them all the way up to Blacklight. He understood that it would likely take three days each way to and from that location. At the same time, he knew that there little was urgency in his pursuit of a rumour. Added to that, he was actually somewhat curious to see what had become of the city of Blacklight after all that time. Nonetheless, he fully intended to make it to Mournhold in a more direct fashion afterward.

Departing from Kragenmoor before the dawn, they headed off northbound along the road. Given that his horse still appeared somewhat lethargic when he collected her from the stabling facilities, Suvaris thought it better to continue leading her by the reigns, rather than riding upon her back.

They'd walked perhaps five or six leagues northward when the black mare faltered and stumbled to the side of the road. She panted heavily for a few moments, then collapsed. A moment later, the horse was dead.

Suvaris knew well enough that she was old, but still strong and healthy. He would have thought the mare likely had another good three or four years to run. He concluded that the kagouti they'd encountered a few days before must have been diseased and that the infection must have been too much for basic healing spells. If he'd had any idea of it, other types of curative spells or potions might have made more difference, but it was too late for such consideration.

Suvaris understood that leaving the carcass like that was likely to attract predators or scavengers to the roadside, but there was nothing to be done about it. It was just too heavy to shift and they didn't have the time to waste.

The Atherons expressed their sincere sympathies over the loss of his horse, feeling partly responsible. Suvaris had waved it off. As he'd told them, he'd owned many horses over the past decades. Several had not lasted nearly as long as that mare and her time ahead was already growing short. He lamented that he might have preferred that she had passed peacefully at the stables back in Cheydinhal, but it was not to be.

If nothing else, after the loss of his horse the Atherons had become far less talkative along the remainder of that leg of the journey. Though it was an uncomfortable silence, it made for more peaceful travel.

At one point they were briefly startled by a wild guar grazing near the roadside, but nothing else threatened to impede the travel of that day. Even so, it was still well past sunset by the time they'd made to the small town of Bodrum.

The next day, they passed by a couple of small settlements before finally making it to Silgrad Tower just after dusk. After passing the evening there, they set off again the next morning. They passed through the small town of Soluthis around the middle of the day, making it to the lumber mill of Cormaris View about two hours before dusk. From there, it was just a relatively short march to the southern outskirts of Blacklight.

During that last day on the road, Suvaris had been observing the skies to the north growing progressively darker. He'd thought that it had something to do with clouds of soot drifting westward from Vvardenfell. However, he soon learned that it was something else. An unseasonable series of storm fronts had just begun to sweep in from the Sea of Ghosts. It later became apparent that though the storms came from the north, they swept along the coastline from east to west, headed for northern Skyrim.

They'd only just made it to the first tavern by the southern approach to the city as the squally rain began that evening. With the rainfall only growing heavier and no sign of it letting up, that tavern became the best place to stay for the night.

Having made it to Blacklight, Atheron insisted upon providing Suvaris with promised payment. However given their greater needs, he steadfastly accepted no more than half of what the lad was offering, which he imagined was likely most of what they had left.

Though Suvaris understood the perceived value of accepting payment for services rendered, he really had no great personal need for the gold. He held far more Septims in reserve back in Cheydinhal than he could ever reasonably spend. Even the unanticipated loss of a horse represented no notable impact upon future expenditure.

After being advised that the bad weather was likely to persist for at least a couple of days, on the next morning Suvaris sought out a better place to stay in the city. During a period of slight easing, braving the windblown sprinkling, he headed for the main part of town. Atheron had come along, eager to look into signing up for work at the docks.

Given the currently inclement weather, there seemed very few people out on the streets of the city, save those who really needed to be on them. Suvaris didn't get to see much of the place, but it seemed relatively familiar, from what he recalled of the one time he'd been there before. He'd heard that Blacklight had fared far better than many other places during the calamities of earlier decades. At first glance, that did seem to be the case.

Only because it was quite near to where he was headed, Suvaris accompanied the Atheron lad to the warehouse by the docks. After declaring himself as Fighters Guild from Cheydinhal, he offered character reference for the younger Dunmer. The older and notably gruff Dunmer running the warehouse didn't seem particularly impressed with Suvaris, but told the lad to return in a few days, when he expected work to resume.

After Suvaris had found vacancy at the nearby Baan Malur Oad Inn, they parted company. Atheron was still thanking him, wishing that he could have provided more coin for all the assistance in assuring their safety. Suvaris graciously accepted the sentiment, wishing the best for the lad and his wife.

Since that time, what he'd expected to be only a day or two had turned into six as the storms continued to lash the northern coastline. With very little to do to productively pass the time, in his mind, it truly seemed much longer.

* * *

Noting that he'd grown weary, Suvaris snapped out of his wool gathering. With a sigh, he stood up from the chair and shifted his boots out of the way. A second sigh shifted midstream and became an insistent yawn as he began to remove the remainder of his armour. He started to lay it out atop the lockup chest, where his helmet, gauntlets and cache of coin had been previously stored.

After he'd finished stripping down to his underclothes and neatly laying out his ebony armour, he stifled another mild yawn and then set to putting out the candles and lamps about that modest rented room.

Though it remained audible, the noise from the tavern down below had eased somewhat as the hour grew late. He did his best to tune it out as he clambered into the barely acceptable bed.

Shifting uncomfortably beneath the covers, Suvaris gave passing thought to his intentions for the next day. From the look of the skies that afternoon, he remained somewhat hopeful that those storms of the past few days might have finally passed by that next morning.

He was certainly feeling that it was well past time to continue onward. Provided that the weather finally eased, he intended to set out again for Mournhold at first opportunity. If the investigation of that rumour proved fruitless, he would most likely resolve to accept the futility of the task that firstly brought him back to the homeland and return to Cheydinhal. Still at that point, he accepted that none of his intentions were truly set in stone. That notion served as his last cogent thought before drifting off to sleep.

~O~


	4. Chapter 4

Winds of the Ashfall: An Elder Scrolls Tale

Greg J Miller

~O~

Chapter 4

Loredas the 27th of Last Seed 4E71 Morning

It was still fairly early as Alaron Suvaris rose that morning. He couldn't quite tell whether the sun had fully risen, but it seemed a little brighter in that rented room than on the previous day. After making use of the chamber pot, he ambled to over the single window of the room to take a look outside through the sooty glass.

Though it was not raining at that moment, it seemed that the sky remained overcast for as far as he could see. Given that the window only permitted an obstructed view of the southerly direction, that didn't tell him much about the northern skies, where those storms had been coming from.

He soon decided to treat the morning as though it would be providing fair weather with more of that on the way. With that notion in mind, he dressed in his ebony armour. Since he wouldn't be going far just yet, he left his helmet and gauntlets in the lockable chest. He wouldn't be needing his weapons out on the streets either. He only had to ensure that he had some coin on hand, then he collected those previously read books and he was on his way.

Though he was just beginning to feel that he might like to start the day with something to eat, he wasn't planning to worry about that just yet. However, just as he reached the lower level of the inn, he observed that a fresh delivery had arrived from a local bakery. A vaguely familiar aroma managed to overwhelm other less pleasant odours of the tavern.

The younger lass was attending the service counter that morning. Both of her parents had been managing the tavern the previous evening. Since he couldn't clearly recall whether her name was 'Llouna' or 'Llirona', he chose to avoid unintended insult. "Good morning to you."

"Ju'rohn." The Dunmer girl returned a casually respectful nod. Though his greeting was offered in the Imperial tongue, she responded with the Dunmeri greeting, 'welcome'.

"What is that pleasantry upon the air?" Suvaris indicated the freshly delivered baskets sitting upon the counter.

The Dunmer lass seemed to guess what had most likely caught his attention. She shifted to the basket with the green tinged buns. "This wot you mean? You fancy marshmerrow muffins? They're straight from the bakers."

Suvaris couldn't remember the last time he'd enjoyed the sweet taste of marshmerrow in anything, though he did recall that it could be almost sickly sweet in excess. He soon realised that he'd been silently contemplating the muffins for a prolonged moment.

Noting the expectant expression of the younger Dunmer, with a subtle nod, Suvaris softly cleared his throat. "Perhaps just one. No more than that, I should think."

The lass behind the counter shrugged and advised him of the cost. After coin was exchanged for muffin, Suvaris offered polite thanks and turned about to head for the street.

* * *

Outside the inn, Suvaris could see that though the skies remained dull and overcast, the cloud cover did seem high and less likely to deliver further rain. The dark storm clouds appeared to have completely disappeared from the northern skies over the Sea of Ghosts. Each of those signs seemed promising.

As he headed off along the street, he took small bites from his marshmerrow muffin, savouring the sweet flavour. Out on the street winding from the lower docks to the main marketplace, he noticed a few people already out and about, moving along in either direction. It seemed that he wasn't the only one believing that the weather had finally turned for the better.

Given that he'd hardly seen much of the city since his arrival, Suvaris held but a passing familiarity with the place. Though more than six decades had passed since he'd last seen anything of Blacklight, it did seem hardly changed much from his faded recollection.

Casting an eye along the street, he casually noted the transition of architectural styling. Down by the docks, the structures appeared more utilitarian. Though many of those buildings displayed just a little of the old Velothian characteristic, most of the stone and timber construction appeared more influenced by contemporary Imperial and Nordic architecture.

Even the Baan Malur Oad Inn seemed like it had originally been built by outlanders, then only later somewhat altered and adjusted to suit Dunmeri sensibilities. In that manner, the past influence of Tiber Septim's Cyrodilic Empire remained visibly evident, even if the empire of the Mede Dynasty seemed to have little active influence in the present.

It was fair to note the contrast even in the common names of things. Of course, the historical Dunmeri name for Blacklight was Baan Malur. However, the directly translated Imperial name had become more commonly used over the centuries since Tiber Septim negotiated treaty with the Tribunal, rendering Morrowind as part of his empire.

Though the name of that inn swayed more to Dunmeri tradition, from structural appearances alone, it was quite likely that it had been in the hands of Imperials at some time in the past. In the common tongue, the literal translation of that name was 'Blacklight Port Inn'.

Looking toward the main marketplace of Blacklight, the style of structure began to shift to a mix that favoured more typical Dunmeri design. Though it hardly favoured one distinct style over another and there was even still some sign of Imperial influence here and there.

Looking even further beyond that merchant district toward one of the residential parts of the city, another fashion dominated more heavily. Many of the homes along the rising slopes followed the predominant Redoran style of construction.

From the outside, those structures resembled rows of giant shells or the chitinous carapaces of enormous insects. Of course unlike the certain types of molded armour commonly worn by the Redoran Guard, those buildings were not actually constructed from chitinous materials. It was more the case that the hardened mud-brick and other materials were shaped and finished to resemble something that looked more organic.

From the outside, the visible portions of those Redoran styled homes hardly seemed very large. As he knew well enough, those upper shell shaped sections were only a small part of those buildings. Some of those structures were only large enough to serve as entryways. Some were a little larger than that. In each case, more of the structure lay below ground. Some homes would only have one level beneath the upper part. Some extended down to two or three levels.

Of course the imposing Rootspire of Blacklight where the Grand Council met stood out as something quite different from much of the architecture about it. As did the Temple of Azura with the tall statue set atop a raised dais.

That served to remind him how that small Temple of the Divines near the edge of town looked rather unimpressive by comparison. That modest timber structure appeared quite humble in contrast to the Great Chapel of Arkay back in Cheydinhal.

Still, that hardly seemed so surprising at all. In Morrowind, worship of the Divines was more of something to be tolerated than embraced. Just as treaty ensured that the Dunmer retained the freedom of their own practices of worship, they were required to accommodate Imperial practices where they existed, or at the least, do nothing to restrict worship of the Nine Divines.

Suvaris finished off the last of his muffin as he walked into the centre of the marketplace and approached the bookstore. From the outside, that building looked much like one of those Redoran styled homes. One of the larger ones. If not for the prominent signage in both Dunmeris and Imperial, he might not have even recognised it as a place of business when he passed it by a few days earlier.

As it happened, he'd nearly arrived too early in the morning. The owner of the bookstore was only just opening up for the day. The dark hued Dunmer with the fading and thinning mane of silvery hair seemed slightly annoyed for just a moment. He then quickly adjusted his expression at the notion of a possibly wealthy customer coming to his store.

Rather than just making the assumption, Suvaris politely inquired whether the store was yet opened for business that day.

After pushing the door fully open, in a somewhat forced display of respect, the older Dunmer inclined his head. "Ju'rohn sera. Please, come into my store."

With a bow of his head, Suvaris returned a similar Dunmeri greeting and stepped inside. Just inside the store, he paused to look about. He immediately noted that it did seem a little larger on the inside than he expected. The entire space was packed with shelving. It seemed that the store occupied only that upper level of the structure. He expected that the older Dunmer's home was located down below. In any case, it seemed that he could certainly expect to find something of interest in that well stocked store.

Before turning about to properly make acquaintance, Suvaris reminded himself of something he'd only just noticed properly since his time at the Baan Malur Oad Inn.

Aside from his interactions with those individuals he'd helped along the roads, his previous dealings with others had been fairly direct. At each location he'd passed through, he'd generally mentioned only his name and his travelling destination. Even in those cases, he'd picked up on a thinly veiled measure of disdain, perhaps either in response to his faded accent, his expensive attire, or something else in his manner. He also suspected that mentioning having come from Cheydinhal could have also been part of it. His affiliation with the Fighters Guild carried a little more currency, but it also indicated that he probably wasn't living in Morrowind. Though none had passed direct comment or insult, it still seemed that he was viewed as an outlander of sorts.

As respectfully as possible, Suvaris introduced himself and again spoke with the elderly owner of the bookstore. The older Dunmer agreed to purchase those books that he was hoping to offload, but only as an offset against the cost of other purchase. Responding to some of Suvaris' queries, the other Dunmer directed him to certain specific areas of shelving.

After a good look about, Suvaris eventually selected three books that he thought might be of fair interest. As promised, the cost of the three books he was buying had been balanced against the value of those he was selling to the shopkeep. In that manner, he paid somewhat less than the full cost of the three books, though still more than the price of two.

After exchanging curt pleasantries, Suvaris was on his way.

* * *

Out on the street once again, Suvaris briefly cast an eye about the main marketplace of the city. He casually noted that nearly every face in view belonged to a fellow Dunmer. He spotted only two that were not. One was a heavy-set bearded man headed down toward the docks, who might have been a Nord or an Imperial. The other was a woman of Breton appearance at a vegetable stand out the front of a store.

He thought that it seemed a notable contrast to what he'd grown accustomed to back in Cyrodiil. Though his own people had come to make up a significant proportion of the populace of Cheydinhal, most of the other races of Tamriel were still well represented.

Though Colovians and Nibenese might have dominated the Imperial City at the heart of Cyrodiil, an even broader mix was evident in that place. There was certainly no shortage of Nords or Bretons. Dark skinned Redguard humans also made up some numbers. There were more than a few Altmer, Bosmer and Dunmer in that cosmopolitan city. Even though Orcs, Argonians and certain types of Khajiit were far fewer in number, they were still regularly seen about that city.

Before the Oblivion Crisis and those other calamities that followed afterward, he recalled that there used to be a far broader mix of races within the larger cities of Morrowind. It seemed that the greatly reduced Imperial interest in the broken Dunmer homeland had contributed to a marked change in that circumstance.

He imagined that there were certain Dunmer who truly embraced the withdrawal of outlanders from their lands. However, he also expected that few could have been quite so sanguine over the terrible series of events that served to finally bring that about.

He'd been mulling over those thoughts as he headed back the way he came, intent upon visiting the trade warehouses to make certain inquiries before deciding his travel plans.

"Sera. Sera… Suvaris." A male voice called out from up the street behind him.

Turning about to look, he recognised the face of the younger Atheron lad. He momentarily adjusted that thought with a shake of his head. Though he was perhaps not even twenty-five, he was hardly a lad. Still, that was how he'd been thinking of Atheron since first meeting him. Even since before turning ninety-nine, Suvaris had often found himself thinking of any male of such youth as a 'lad'.

"Atheron." Suvaris inclined his head in acknowledgment.

The younger Dunmer paused just a moment to catch his breath. "I'm a bit surprised to see you 'bout, but I'm glad to get another chance to be thanking you."

Suvaris tried to maintain a passive expression. "No further thanks are necessary. I'm glad to have provided assistance. I do trust that your wife is well?"

Atheron nodded. "Yeah, she's good. We even found a place we can afford to stay. I'm just headed down for the docks. I got work. Ships need loadin' up to head out today."

"That's good. I'm quite glad to hear."

Atheron looked down toward the docks anxiously then turned back to Suvaris. "I can't be late, but I just wanted to… I meant wot I said before. I talked it over with the missus. We're ever so grateful for all your help. We'll be naming one of our young'ns after you. Alaron for a boy, or maybe Suvaris for a girl."

Suvaris frowned slightly. "That's not at all necessary."

Atheron nodded agreeably, but only to be polite. "We know that, but it's how we feel."

"I should not prevent you from arriving for your work. I have no wish to place your position in doubt."

Atheron returned a respectful bow of his head and then turned and quickly dashed off toward the lower docks.

* * *

Suvaris remained in place on the street for a few moments longer, watching the younger Dunmer go on his way. He waited until Atheron was well down the street before he finally continued along the thoroughfare in the same direction.

Since he'd had plenty of time to think upon the matter, he already held a tentative travel plan in mind. It was obvious enough to him that there was little to no chance of finding a horse to replace the one he'd lost. He'd also rejected the notion of acquiring a guar for the same purpose. Though those creatures were sturdy, even those bred to serve as mounts were rather slow. After a relatively short distance at a canter or even shorter if sprinting, they tended to tire and return to plodding. He'd decided that travelling on foot would be far less trouble.

He was headed for the trade warehouses down near the docks, not far from where he'd started his day. He was hoping to make contact with caravan traders headed in the same direction he was travelling. He assumed it was still easy enough to offer guard services in exchange for travelling alongside. The logic of that was simple enough. He didn't really require the company, but travelling with merchants would simplify certain matters and reduce the likelihood of a repeat of the kind of circumstances that previously delayed his journey.

Suvaris found the trade warehouse easily enough, but what he found inside was not exactly what he'd been expecting. The place seemed awash with chaos and disorder. He'd grown accustomed to the more orderly agency of the Imperial Trading Company offices back in Cyrodiil. If that particular operation was at all under the direction for the East Empire Trading Company, he observed no indication of it.

After a few missteps, he found someone who seemed to be in charge of some part of the activities. That broad shouldered Dunmer seemed no older than Suvaris, but his demeanour appeared more like that of someone ready for retirement. That dark and swarthy individual sported one of those moderately full dark beards that only a few Dunmer managed to grow.

It took another few interrupted moments to get his purpose across to that other Dunmer. The warehouse worker distractedly advised that some traders had already departed earlier that morning and that one caravan was leaving any moment and not waiting around for anyone. He made a point of saying that it wasn't really up to him anyway, but he'd direct Suvaris to some individuals who might be interested in what he was after.

After bouncing about from one person to the next, he eventually connected with an interested merchant who was actually bound for Mournhold. He was a Dunmer by the name of Rurvyn, just a few years younger than Suvaris. Apparently, that trader generally travelled only with just his brother and his nephew.

As anticipated, the merchant was not willing to pay for an expensive guard. Even so, he was willing enough to permit Suvaris to travel along as an unofficial guard in exchange for travelling with the caravan.

Of course that arrangement suited Suvaris well enough. It was pretty well just what he was hoping for. After brief discussion, they agreed to meet by the southern exit from the city at dawn the next morning.

* * *

Emerging onto the streets again, Suvaris took brief note of the skies. Though pale cloud cover continued to obscure the sun, it did look to him like it might well be relatively clear by the next morning. The day was already beginning to grow far warmer than those past few days had been. Even though there was no indication of it right at that moment, he suspected that warmer winds from the south were on the way.

Suvaris knew well enough that the combination of volcanic mountains and the prevailing winds from northern Argonia generally served to keep most of Morrowind relatively warm. Unlike Skyrim, even in winter, snowfall was almost unheard of anywhere below the peaks of the Velothi Mountains separating those two lands.

Resigning himself to passing just one more evening in Blacklight, Suvaris had only one more thing to attend before returning to the inn. He headed back up the street to the marketplace; briefly visiting some stores to replenish his travelling supplies. Since he didn't require much, it hadn't taken him all that long.

Upon returning to the Baan Malur Oad Inn, Suvaris made arrangement to pay for just one more night, advising that he'd be gone before the next sunrise. Since it was already near to midday by that time, he suddenly realised that he was feeling just a little peckish. With a slight measure of reluctance, he decided to purchase another marshmerrow muffin and a locally brewed mazte to wash it down.

Since the tavern area of the inn was relatively quite at that time, he decided to take a seat at a table to eat and drink. The only other two patrons around kept to themselves, not interested in bothering him or each other.

After a brief visit to the downstairs bathroom, Suvaris headed back up to his rented room with his books and supplies.

~O~


	5. Chapter 5

Winds of the Ashfall: An Elder Scrolls Tale

Greg J Miller

~O~

Chapter 5

Loredas the 27th of Last Seed 4E71 Afternoon

It was still early in the afternoon as Alaron Suvaris returned to his rented room, upstairs at the Baan Malur Oad Inn. In preparation of the next morn, he made some effort to pack away as much as possible into his travelling pack. Except for his weapons and what he'd be wearing, that meant most of what he had with him.

Two of those books that he'd purchased had already been packed away, but he kept the other book out, intending to read from it to pass the remainder of the day.

That tome was entitled, 'Morrowind Absent Tribunal'. From the introduction page inside the cover, it was clear enough that it was intended to represent an historical overview of the Dunmer homeland following the events of the Oblivion Crisis. Though the author's name clearly indicated that he was Dunmer, it was all written in plain Imperial. In fact the tone of it seemed to indicate that the book was more targeted toward readers outside of the homeland, than those within.

In truth, Suvaris might have otherwise hesitated to consider reading a book like that if it had actually been written in Dunmeris. Naturally, he was able to read the language and script of the homeland, but perhaps not nearly as well as some of his ancestors. Even within Morrowind, it seemed that the native tongue of his people had gradually become something of a secondary language.

Since he'd been raised in a small farming community during his formative years, hearing spoken Dunmeris had been more common than seeing it in the written form. Aside from those few times he'd visited Kragenmoor as a child, he'd rarely had reason to read anything written in Dunmeris. His father made effort to ensure that his children could read Dunmeris script, but his mother put more stock in ensuring that they knew how to read and write the common Imperial word. Under the influence of the Septim Empire, the Imperial tongue really had grown far more common over the centuries, in both the spoken word and the written word.

Suvaris had come to hold mixed views over that circumstance. Of course, he was fully aware that many Dunmer of the homeland maintained sustained animosity toward the Empire of Cyrodiil. At least, some of that might have been deserved. Perhaps some other parts of it, a little less so. He'd come to observe that many things were not quite so simple.

Suvaris could see the value in maintaining certain aspects of Dunmer tradition and firmly believed that the past should not be forgotten. At the same time, he was not one of those to believe that the future should be unerringly chained to the past. He believed that the lessons of the past served best to advise the path ahead, rather than constrain it.

He didn't really blame the Empire quite so harshly for failing to properly live up to its aspirations. Certainly, he held his disappointments, but he still recognised that nothing was ever quite so uncomplicated. He understood that Tiber Septim had once sought to unite all of Tamriel under a single banner, with the goal of bringing about an end to widespread conflict across the lands. It might not have worked out quite so perfectly, but he imagined that it might have otherwise been far worse.

Events of the past few decades had already begun to demonstrate the broader wisdom of that particular slant. Though he felt that Emperor Attrebus could be doing far more, he expected that things could be more dire, if he hadn't been trying at all.

Suvaris' perspective had become possibly more informed than some of his fellow Dunmer, who had never ventured much outside the homeland. Some of that arose from personal experience. A great deal of it was derived from what he learned from others. Of course, whenever not involved in training or the pursuit of Guild contracts, his many decades with the Fighters Guild had afforded a great deal of time for reading. Though he was hardly a scholar or the like, Suvaris had become quite well read across a broad spectrum of topics. He wasn't quite sure what he expected to learn from that book he'd acquired, but he'd come to believe that one could never be exposed to too much knowledge.

As he pulled off his boots, Suvaris noted that it was starting to feel uncomfortably warm in that room. With some minor effort, he managed to force the window to shift on its hinges and get it open. The layers of soot clinging to the outside of the glass remained undisturbed. The fresher air coming from outside immediately made some difference. The sounds of some screeching gulls could be heard coming from somewhere over near the docks. Looking outside, he observed that the southern sky did appear to be clearing, with patches of blue interrupting the thinning cloud cover. It seemed likely that the following day would see a return to clear and warm weather, as the last days of summer reasserted their influence.

* * *

Suvaris settled into that chair by the window with that book in his hand and started to read. As a starting point, the first part of the book went on to gently lament the loss of the living gods of the Tribunal, pointedly reminding that though Almalexia and Sotha Sil were gone forever, Lord Vivec was only missing. From there, it briefly touched upon the emergence of return to worship of the original Dunmer faith. Of course, that involved the worship of ancestors and those three purported 'good' Daedric Princes, Azura, Mephala and Boethiah. In the eyes of the New Temple, those three Daedra were referred to as 'The Reclamations' and those former gods became labelled as members of the 'False Tribunal'.

A little further into the book, it touched upon the struggles taking place during the Oblivion Crisis of seventy-odd years before. Though the Empire had its hands full dealing with the assassination of an Emperor and the numerous Oblivion gates opening up across all of Cyrodiil, its absence of support within Morrowind during that period was viewed harshly by the Dunmer of the homeland. That was casually acknowledged in the text of the book.

In Morrowind, it was perhaps only some measure of luck that so many of those Oblivion gates had manifested some distance from the most heavily populated centres of the land. However, the Redoran city of Ald'ruhn had been a notable exception. That city had been situated on the western side of the isle of Vvardenfell, about halfway between Red Mountain and the coast.

During the Oblivion Crisis, Ald'ruhn suffered much the same fate as Kvatch in Cyrodiil. The city had been completely overrun by Daedric hordes pouring through the Oblivion gates nearby. The tiny contingent of Legion soldiers at the nearby Buckmoth Legion Fort did not survive to demonstrate the futility of their number. Only relatively few of the citizens of Ald'ruhn escaped the carnage to speak of it.

Much like Kvatch, efforts had been expended to rebuild Ald'ruhn in some fashion after the dust had settled upon the ending of the Oblivion Crisis. Given the prevailing circumstances in Cyrodiil at that time, next to nothing in the way of support came from the Empire. Added to that, the events of the Red Year served to undo those strained efforts to restore Ald'ruhn.

Suvaris had never been to Ald'ruhn before its demise. In fact, he'd only ever set foot upon the isle of Vvardenfell just the once. Upon that occasion, he passed just two days at Vivec City. A Fighters Guild contract had taken him across the Inner Sea, serving as an escort for a simple delivery. After completing that task, he was back upon the mainland, and since that time, circumstances soon saw to it that he would never have another opportunity to see it again.

Though he'd hardly seen any of Vvardenfell, he knew quite a bit of what was there, or rather what had once been there. After pausing on that thought, he continued reading the book to learn what fresh insights might be revealed.

After only a short time, Suvaris began to realise that the book's author was largely telling him much of what he already knew. If fact, he soon began to feel that some of it he actually knew in far better detail than the book was detailing.

After reading the same passage on a page at least three or four times over, his mind began to wander. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, casting his mind back over things he'd previously read some time before.

As he recalled, the vast isle of Vvardenfell had once represented the most densely populated area of all of Morrowind. He understood that there had been perhaps as many people living there as all the rest of the surrounding mainland and lesser islands combined. Vivec City and its immediate surrounds easily hosted the greatest population of Vvardenfell. Not even the great cities of Balmora and Ald'ruhn were said to come quite so close. Though he'd never seen anything beyond Vivec City, he held no reason to doubt that assessment. Of course, he understood that there had been several other localities across the isle, but none quite so heavily populated as Vivec City or those other two cities.

Still, all of that circumstance shifted rather rapidly and markedly just sixty-six years before and it all started at Vivec City, or more the case, just above it. Known alternatively as Baar Dau or the Ministry of Truth, a huge rock hovered above the cantons of the stone city, just as it had done since earlier times, when Lord Vivec was said to have halted its descent from the heavens. Though he'd only seen it from below, he understood that it had been partly hollowed out to serve as a prison for dissidents.

Suvaris didn't know anything about it at the time, but after the disappearance of Lord Vivec, the magic holding that object in place had begun to wane and local mages had contrived other methods to maintain the position of the mighty rock suspended above the ancient city.

Apparently, the machinations of those mages seeking to maintain the delicate circumstances of Baar Dau eventually proved unsustainable.

In the fifth year of the fourth era, the Ministry of Truth resumed its suspended descent and crashed down upon Vivec City with unimaginable force, utterly destroying all in its path. The land shook violently from the impact and the ground-quakes were felt from many leagues away in every direction.

On that day, Suvaris had been on the road, well south of the Inner Sea. His current duties had placed him upon the Mournhold-to-Narsis-to-Kragenmoor route. The trade caravan he was escorting was two-thirds of the way to the southern city of Narsis when they felt the trembling of the ground beneath them.

Without knowing any different, they reasonably expected that the restless mountain near the centre of Vvardenfell was the likely cause. After all, it was known to rumble and grumble and release some smoke and ash from time-to-time. Some of those other fiery mountains of mainland Stonefalls were also known to smoulder, but generally far more quietly than Red Mountain.

During the northward return from Narsis, along the road to Kragenmoor, ashen clouds darkening the distant northern skies seemed to support those earlier suppositions. None of them held any notion of the full extent of what had transpired until some time later.

Reportedly, aside from destroying Vivec City and the surrounding land, the force of the fall of Baar Dau had left a broad crater and opened up fresh lava flows all about those southern parts of that main island, both on land and in the sea. Since that time, the boiling waters and charred shores of that part of the Inner Sea became known only as 'Scathing Bay'. Periodically, fresh lava flows or the like would serve to bring renewed troubles to the region, much like what had occurred only just recently.

The impact of the Ministry of Truth resulted in other more far reaching effects further from where it struck. Though situated many leagues apart, the ground-quakes from that impact had triggered another violent eruption of Red Mountain.

It had been far more than the usual minor rumblings of recent times and more like the catastrophe spoken of during a much earlier time. The third of Sun's Dawn that year came to mark the greatest eruption of the mountain since the time of the first era.

It was known that many parts of the isle near to the mountain had been almost immediately struck down by first rain of molten rock and hot ash. Some parts located a little further afield survived just a little longer, but did not go unscathed. As the ash rained down from above and noxious clouds of gases spread outward, lava flows poured out from the mountain, incinerating everything in its path.

Native Dunmer and outlanders alike, far fewer managed any escape from calamity than the number of those who met their demise during those terrible days. In one way or another, by the end of the following day, the central landmass of Morrowind had become more or less fully depopulated.

By no means had the devastation been limited to the isle of Vvardenfell. Across the narrow waters of the Inner Sea, many other places along the shores and relatively nearby had suffered greatly, as well as some locations situated even much further afield.

Though located far away to the south along the eastern coast of mainland Morrowind, the port city of Tear had suffered from violent ground-quakes. Many parts of the city had been brought down by the devastating tremors. It was likely triggered from the initial event causing far reaching reverberations that affected unstable ground below that southern region.

To the immediate south of the isle of Vvardenfell, the port of Old Ebonheart might have escaped total destruction during the first days of the disaster, even from those unexpected floods from the sea. However, the following rain of ash and drifting clouds of poison had quickly rendered that place uninhabitable at the time. That situation only eased somewhat with the passage of further time.

From what Suvaris understood, a similar circumstance had transpired in that city where he'd been staying for the past week. The city of Blacklight was situated upon a northward-facing bay in the north-western region of mainland Morrowind. To the east, a relatively narrow stretch of land stood between the city and the Inner Sea. Though not terribly high, those hills served as a limited barrier of sorts. Still, the waters separating that eastern peninsular from Vvardenfell were not so broad at that point.

Though Blacklight was not far from the large island, it had not been destroyed outright by the effects of the initial eruption of Red Mountain. It was likely only good fortune and happenstance that more of the mountain's initial blast had been directed upward and northward. Added to that, it was built upon sturdier ground than Tear. If not for that, Blacklight might not have remained standing at all.

He'd heard a number of variations of the tales, but each of them effectively told the same thing. Though the city of Blacklight had been shaken, it had not been violent enough to break it or bring it down. Following the ground-quakes and thundering booms from beyond the visible horizon, the skies began to darken as the distant mountain disappeared behind a blackened cloud. The billowing ash-clouds appeared to rush both upward and northward with some great speed, but seemingly rolled westward far more slowly.

That same day, a great wall of water rushed across the Inner Sea toward the mainland shores. However, it seemed to have expended much of its force before crashing upon the peninsular of land just east of that city. It was not nearly enough to wash over the hills and reach Blacklight. Evidently, someone had witnessed, as it was said to resemble no more than a violent storm-swell by the time that the angry waters crashed upon those shores.

Still, though most parts of Blacklight remained standing, the city had soon been rendered effectively uninhabitable. Firstly by the noxious gas cloud that slowly drifted across the greater region, and secondly by the dark ash that gently rained down upon those lands.

By the time that it had finally reached Blacklight, it was not quite the searing hot ash that had burned much of the isle of Vvardenfell. Nonetheless, the cooler ash that fell across the land had still brought lasting devastation to the region.

During the disaster, the inhabitants of Blacklight and the immediate surrounds were evacuated by whichever means had been quickly available. Some number had escaped by sea, upon whatever vessels had been at port at the time. Many more departed across the land, rushing toward the west. The fortunate few travelled by cart or wagon, or similar method. Many more made their way on foot.

He imagined it was fair to presume that anyone left behind, or else stubbornly choosing to stay behind in the city would have been unlikely to have survived to speak of it.

Some of the sea-going vessels escaping the port had sailed westward for Skyrim. A few travelled northward, bound for the large island of Solstheim. By then, the Imperial port settlement upon the southern coast of that isle was already being evacuated, but the Raven Rock mining settlement to the west was in a better sheltered position. Added to that, that secondary township already hosted a notable Dunmer populace.

Some of those fleeing westward overland made their way for the northern pass into eastern Skyrim. Some gathered in the mountainous highlands of western Morrowind. Some others began to make their way southward with other destinations in mind.

In the immediate aftermath, it was understood that Blacklight remained empty for a short time, blanketed under a liberal coating of soot and ash. At some point, looters had arrived to pick through the city. A brief time passed before a small number of Blacklight's inhabitants came back, then gradually more returned.

Even after the passing of the Red Year, when the skies had cleared somewhat, the state of the land about Blacklight still saw to it that things remained harsh for any of those seeking to return to living in that place.

The difficulty of securing adequate supply of potable water was one problem not easily overcome. Added to that, many crops remained unable to flourish in soils heavily affected by fresh ashfall. Very little could be produced from fields near to the city.

The land situated further off to the west had been only somewhat less affected. Even with the passage of time and adjustment to more ash-tolerant crops, it seemed that sea-going trade vessels became an increasingly important part of sustaining the modest populace of that city.

Above all of that, the restless threat from the distant mountain remained. Though Red Mountain had settled somewhat, no longer regularly spewing forth bursts of molten rock into the sky, it continued to lazily drip lava flows down its sides and smoulder in a menacing fashion. As such, billowing ash-clouds above the mountain tended to wax and wane, but seemed rarely absent for very long. Even many years afterward, during certain conditions and easterly winds, sooty clouds of light ash would sometimes still drift over the city of Blacklight, adding to existing hardships as the mountain reminded all of its presence.

Of course, Suvaris was also well aware of that other great calamity which afflicted Morrowind beyond the earlier days of the Red Year. Though it might have later seemed somewhat futile, a great deal of recovery effort had been expended before that other terrible circumstance came to pass.

Following the destruction that laid waste to Vvardenfell and localities nearest to the isle, many of those who were able soon became involved in assisting the survivors of the primary disasters. Once word had spread, some number of Dunmer currently living outside of Morrowind had begun to return to the homeland to assist. Though they did not act at all alone, House Redoran had been instrumental in leading the relief efforts out of the former capital of Mournhold.

For a relatively brief period of time, the outer city surrounding the inner temple city of Mournhold swelled with the populace of refugees from nearby regions. To the west, places like the ancient township of Bodrum also ended up with a temporarily swollen populace. A similar thing occurred with other small settlements across the land. A great many sought refuge over in Kragenmoor and some number fled southward to Narsis; both places still tenuously under House Hlaalu at that time.

By bloodline, Alaron Suvaris never truly belonged to any of the Great Houses of Morrowind, nor even any of those lesser ones seeking to rise. At most, he'd lived under their broader influence as fortunes shifted about him. During his youth, those things were mostly matters far above his own station. Nonetheless, even back then he held at least some general awareness of the broader detail of it.

Even when the land itself had turned against them, it seemed that the ruling houses of Morrowind still failed to rise far above certain matters of self-interest. House Redoran had lost significant holdings in the destruction of Vvardenfell. Before that, the Redoran city of Ald'ruhn had been all but lost to the devastation of Daedric incursion during the Oblivion Crisis. However even after that event, House Redoran had still managed to possess the closest thing to a standing army in the homeland. Though the surviving Redoran forces had been deployed to drive the relief efforts, it did really seem as though other political motivations were not completely ignored.

During that fresh crisis, some criticism had been levelled toward House Telvanni for not contributing nearly enough to the efforts. Though participating in the relief efforts, House Indoril had also been the target of such sentiment for somewhat different reasons. Even during such dire circumstances, there were some zealots of House Indoril who seemed to hold fervent piety above matters of practicality.

Though in a notably lesser position of influence, House Dres appeared motivated to contribute as best it could. Given that its remaining holdings were primarily rural farming communities, House Dres did actually have something of great value to contribute at that time.

By then, House Hlaalu no longer enjoyed the staunch support of Imperial backing and had lost significant holdings from the destruction across Vvardenfell, but it still employed some effort to be part of the relief process. Food, water and safe-harbour were the greatest assets of those days, and like House Dres, House Hlaalu could provide for some of that.

Of course, very little assistance came directly from the Imperial province during that time. The sting of the Oblivion Crisis only five years before also remained fresh in the minds of native Dunmer. Much of the forces of the Imperial Legion had been withdrawn from Morrowind back then and there had been little opportunity for subsequent replacement with all the ongoing troubles elsewhere. In parts of Morrowind, that circumstance had been both welcomed and derided in somewhat equal measure.

Since the death of the last Emperor on the Ruby Throne, Potentate Ocato had been struggling to maintain the Elder Council and retain some hold upon the Septim legacy, but other forces were working hard to undermine such intent. Some of those forces both within and without were easy enough to identify. Some others remained hidden from clear view for a time.

Following the Oblivion Crisis, the Argonian rebellion in Black Marsh had resulted in that province fully seceding from the Empire at a time when it was in no position of strength to oppose that action. At the same time, following the assassination of the Mane, the Kingdoms of Elsweyr had already begun to splinter that province. One by one, each of those parts of the whole had been breaking away to declare independence and seemingly concentrate upon fighting one another.

Of course at that time, the internal strife upon the Summerset Isles had yet to fully arrive at its ultimate destination, but it was already creating notable problems for the struggling Empire.

In the wake of the resolution of the Oblivion Crisis, the Thalmor clans had risen to prominence within the governing body of the Altmer homelands and had begun a campaign of sewing unrest both within and without. The trading ports had been closed off to vessels from outside the southern isles and the first steps had begun of a more sinister move to purge the homeland of those not of Altmer blood.

Though the Summerset Isles had yet to officially make any declaration of intent to break from the Empire, the actions of the rulers of that province had already begun foreshadow what lay not so far ahead.

Even within Cyrodiil, the counties of Bravil and Leyawiin had disrupted the unity of the central province. The counts of both those cities had vocally opposed the elevation of the High Chancellor to serve as Potentate in the absence of a suitable heir to the Septim rule.

None of that directly affected the events which unfolded within Morrowind, except of course that the Empire which struggled for so long to impose its will upon that land was notably absent when it came time to provide greatly needed assistance.

During that time of great need, Morrowind found itself largely on its own with woefully limited resources. Even though a number of Dunmer had streamed back to the homeland, what might have really made far more difference would have been greater assistance from the Empire, were there any to provide. The meagre Legion presence which remained at just a few locations across mainland Morrowind hardly qualified.

As the Dunmer homeland was still in the process of struggling to recover and rebuild, another great crisis plagued the broken lands. The appellation of The Red Year came not only from the eerie glow from Red Mountain during the hazy skies of those months. Before the full passing of one year, several regions of the mainland saw the spilling of even more Dunmer blood. That matter was something that he knew far too well.

* * *

With a sudden start, Suvaris realised that several hours had just skipped by as he sat in that chair. Setting the open book down upon the small table, he looked out the window, noting that the partially obscured sun was quite near to setting.

He rose from the chair with a huffy sigh of annoyance. He'd intended to go take an evening meal before it became busy downstairs. He understood that he might have left it a little too late to avoid having to negotiate a boisterous crowd. Wasting no further time, he hurriedly pulled on his boots and headed for the door, locking it behind himself, before going downstairs to the tavern.

~O~


	6. Chapter 6

Winds of the Ashfall: An Elder Scrolls Tale

Greg J Miller

~O~

Chapter 6

Loredas the 27th of Last Seed 4E71 Evening

It was already dark outside by the time that Alaron Suvaris returned to his rented room above the tavern area of the inn. Given that it was just beginning to grow slightly crowded down below, he was glad to be back upstairs in the comparative solitude of his room.

When he'd gone downstairs a little earlier, there had firstly been only three or four other patrons in the tavern. By the time he'd departed the lower level, that number had grown to more than a dozen, with likely more soon on the way. Even so, it seemed that the ships leaving the port had taken some of the noisiest patrons. There was still some measure of noise emanating from below, but it seemed at least a little less rowdy than the previous few evenings.

After that unexpected incident of the night before, he'd been a little wary of what he chose to eat that evening. He still held no idea of exactly what had so badly disagreed with his stomach on Fredas, but it did influence his of choice of meal. He elected to cautiously avoid the seafood on offer and go with the freshly roasted boar and baked yam.

Avoiding some of the already drunken patrons in the tavern, Suvaris made brief use of the downstairs bathroom before heading back upstairs for the last time.

After unlocking the door to his room, he inwardly chastised himself as he noticed that he'd left that window open. Nothing appeared otherwise amiss, but he remained annoyed with himself nonetheless. If that window hadn't faced the relatively busy street below in such an exposed fashion, it might have presented as an attractive target for an unusually agile thief. It might also be fair to think that a truly determined and skilled individual wouldn't be deterred, by either the exposed aspect or even a closed window, but that wasn't the point.

Before pulling the stubborn window closed, he glanced out at the evening sky. Just a few stars could be seen between the shifting clouds. The slim crescent of Secunda peeked out from behind a cloud. It was already nearly a third of the way up into the sky. A bright glow coming from behind some cloud on the eastern horizon indicated that Masser was just rising. It looked like that larger moon might be near to full, or he considered that it might have just passed full and was starting to wane. He wasn't immediately certain of which. Over the past week of stormy skies, he'd just about lost track of the cycles of the moons.

Using the tinderbox, Suvaris lit the oil lamp and two candles, to better illuminate the room. Since it was still far too early to try sleeping and there was still a bit too much noise coming up from down below, he pulled off his boots and settled into the chair by the small table, intending to take another look at that book.

* * *

Picking up the book once again, Suvaris looked to what he'd been reading earlier in the afternoon. Once again finding it rather less engaging than he'd originally expected, he'd skipped forward, looking to see whether the author had something more informative to impart.

After going on quite a bit about the divergence of popular opinion regarding the dramatic shift in local religious custom, the book eventually moved onto detailing the events of the destruction of Vivec City and the devastation that followed across all of Vvardenfell, then further afield at other localities.

Just as he'd been expecting, the author provided no better detail than what he'd previously read from other sources. It all seemed immediately more factual than insightful, and even then, it still seemed light on detail. In fact, Suvaris remained confident that he probably knew far more than the author of that book of several matters only briefly touched upon.

The only thing that really served to diverge from that assessment came from some first-hand accounts provided from citizens of the port city of Tear, who had survived the terrible ground-quakes that nearly levelled that place. He'd previously heard something of the like before, but those direct accounts did add some fresh perspective.

Further along, the author did go into quite a bit of specific detail outlining the political manoeuvring of the Great Houses of Morrowind during the relief efforts following those disasters emanating from Vvardenfell. However, Suvaris was already aware of the most important aspects of those details. It seemed to him that the author was more interested in painting each of the Great Houses in a poor light; all except for House Redoran, it seemed.

Skipping further forward again, the text shifted to address the next disastrous calamity to afflict the Dunmer homeland. Once again, he soon found that it seemed rather poorly documented. He was quite certain that he'd read other sources that he considered far more informative. Added to that, Suvaris had lived through some of it and the after effects of that time haunted him to that day.

He quickly came to develop the opinion that the author of that tome was most likely too young to have lived though the events outlined. Added to that, given some of the bent of certain commentary, he even suspected that though his name indicated he was Dunmer, he might not have even lived in Morrowind for any period of time.

Releasing a heavy sigh of exasperation, he looked away from the pages of the book in frustration. Though the book had failed to hold his attention, it did spark his own broader recollections of those terrible events which followed the destruction of Vvardenfell, along with numerous other details he'd picked up from other sources over the years.

Suvaris recalled it well enough for himself. It began during the month of Second Seed, just four months after the initial devastation emanating from the isle of Vvardenfell. At least on the surface, that fresh crisis arrived from far more mundane origins, though it proved no less devastating in the fullness of time.

From his recollection, the reasoning behind the invasion of Argonians from the south had not been so clear at the time, perhaps even defying rational sense after the fact.

Of course, the centuries of slavery and associated indignities suffered at the collective hands of the Dunmer had to have been some part of it. Even though that practice had finally been completely outlawed and stamped out with some measure of Imperial persuasion, it had hardly been forgotten or forgiven.

It was before the Oblivion Crisis, when the abolition of slavery came at the decree of King Helseth. Still, it had been publicly touted that the fresh alliance between House Hlaalu and House Dres had provided the driving force of that final move to put an end to all slavery. Even so, it was common enough knowledge that not everyone of those two houses was as fully committed to that objective as the other Great Houses more openly protested the motion.

Having heard it from reliable sources, Suvaris was perfectly aware that some of the House Dres controlled plantations had maintained Argonian and Khajiit slaves right up until the very moment that it had eventually been fully outlawed.

He'd often heard that it was much the same with interests controlled by House Telvanni. However, the leaders of that house had never made any claims to the contrary.

Before that matter had been fully settled, there had been numerous skirmishes between movements of the opposing houses. At that time, Suvaris had been with the Fighters Guild for just a few years. Still, that meant that he was recused from any direct participation on behalf on any particular house, but he'd still observed some of the conflict from the sidelines.

He also recalled that though House Hlaalu publicly claimed otherwise, not all of their outlying interests had fully abandoned slavery until it was made strictly illegal. It might have become more rare, but it was not fully absent from all House Hlaalu territories.

Even so, after the proper abolition of slavery was finalised, even Indoril dominated Mournhold no longer held slaves. He wasn't certain of House Redoran, but it was said to have also begrudgingly followed suit. He also held no direct knowledge of whether House Telvanni had become fully compliant, but rumour sometimes suggested otherwise. From what he'd observed, he was confident that Kragenmoor had abided the new laws. By that time, the Hlaalu city of Narsis had claimed to be free of slavery, but even if it were true, that distinction might not have held much currency with the Saxhleel of Argonia, when balanced against the past.

Of course, that small farming community that Suvaris had originally come from was still located within an Hlaalu administered region at that time. Even so, those small farms were independently owned and run by the families, rather than directly beholden to any specific Great House. Nevertheless, there was no slavery there and had not been during his lifetime. Poor farming families couldn't afford to own slaves, even if they'd wanted to. It was difficult enough to just to produce enough excess from their farms to have something to trade at market.

Successfully distracting himself from his previous train of thought, Suvaris again suddenly wondered what had become of the Hlaalu ruler after the Argonian invasion and the subsequent fall of House Hlaalu.

Looking down to the book again, he flicked through the pages searching for some mention of Hlaalu Helseth. He could find various references in the parts before the invasion, but nothing after that. Not even in the parts about House Hlaalu's expulsion from the Grand Council, before House Sadras took its place.

Suvaris had previously suspected that Helseth might have gone into hiding, if he'd survived the invasion, but he'd never actually read anything to confirm that suspicion.

With a sigh, he shook his head. He didn't know why he expected to learn anything of that from that particular book, given what he'd observed thus far. He'd already established that that author evidently knew far less than he did.

Without actually intending to, Suvaris had inadvertently left the book open on a page that referred to the terrible events of the Argonian invasion of Morrowind. That had served to remind him of what he'd been previously thinking.

As he'd recalled hearing, when the Argonians came swarming up into Morrowind from the south, there seemed no interest in discerning which Dunmer might have been responsible for the sins of the past or whoever might be tenuously innocent of those crimes. It was said that they merely attacked all in their path without discrimination.

As Suvaris understood, though it was only some small piece of it, it later came out that the Thalmor clans of the Altmer homeland played some part in encouraging the Argonians to act. However at the time, it hardly mattered who was most responsible for inciting the swarm of terror.

Waves of Argonian forces swept into Morrowind, rampaging and driven to frenzy on the sap of the Hist tree. If the supposed intelligence of the Hist trees had been guiding them, it hardly seemed evident; both from examination of the aftermath and from the reports of those individuals fortunate enough to survive the rampage.

According to survivors, little in the way of any clear strategy emerged. The Saxhleel merely killed everything and everyone in their path, save those swift enough to escape or else able to find sufficiently fortified or hidden places of refuge.

There were some reports of Dunmer escaping the carnage only by quietly hiding just barely out of easy reach of the crazed horde. It seemed that the frenzied Argonians were most drawn toward visibly large targets and noise and motion. In many instances, they seemed almost blinded by Hist induced rage and unable to readily see just beyond immediate focus.

In some cases, even herds of domesticated guar had been wildly slaughtered. That senseless activity seemed notably out of place, emphasising the great madness that gripped the invading hordes. Under normal circumstances, there was a general affinity between Argonians and those docile reptilian beasts of burden.

Some of the rampaging Saxhleel came up along the eastern coastal region. A greater number emerged from the southern marshes between the Argonian Shadowfen region and the Deshaan Plains of Morrowind.

The southern Hlaalu city of Narsis was among the first places to fall to the invading hordes from the Black Marsh. Other small townships and settlements in their path were quick to follow. In a perverse sort of way, the suffering of the great number of Dunmer at Narsis served to delay the Argonian onslaught, if only briefly.

Of course, the other major location nearest to the border with Argonia was the House Dres city of Tear. That place was still struggling with the damage from the ground-quakes, when its inhabitants were set upon by the frenzied invaders. Tear was said have offered little in the way of resistance to the unexpected invasion. Some managed to flee, barely escaping with their lives and nothing else. Others met their fate at the scaly clawed hands of the invaders.

After disorganised assaults upon those earlier targets, some of the hordes swept further up the eastern coast of Morrowind. Other large groups moved northward across the Deshaan Plains. A lesser number had broken off to march though the western regions.

As was noted at that time, the Argonians did not seem to remain in any particular place as an occupying force. After wreaking death and destruction, they just moved on toward the next destination.

Along the eastern coastal region, the various towns and smaller settlements between Tear and Necrom fell to the haphazard advancement of the hordes.

To the west, Kragenmoor endured only somewhat better. Though the lower city had been laid to waste by the invaders, parts of the fortified upper city had held out long enough to weather the worst of it. In all likelihood, it was only because there were fewer Saxhleel at that location than some other places they attacked. After running out of available targets to slaughter, according to survivors, the Argonians seemingly gave up for the time being and moved on to the next place.

As Suvaris knew well, the next major target beyond the far south had been the former capital of the land. In what followed, Mournhold had not fared well at all. The outer city of Almalexia had been torn apart by the invaders, before eventually reaching the inner temple city.

He'd actually been well clear of that area by then, with other far more pressing concerns at hand. Suvaris paused for a moment, trying to deflect those specific thoughts from rising to the surface and setting aside where his mind was taking him.

Though he witnessed little of any of it, he understood that Redoran armies had been rallied and rapidly deployed to oppose the Argonian hordes attacking the capital and other locations. Some of the invaders managed to get past the defenders, headed elsewhere. Even so, the bloody clashes between those forces resulted in the demise of many Dunmer and Saxhleel, before the tide began to turn.

In short, the Redoran led forces eventually managed to seemingly gain the upper hand or perhaps the invaders had just finally begun to lose the drive to persist. In either case, the remaining Argonians turned from battle and gradually withdrew to their homeland swamps to the south.

Of course, the invaders didn't completely abandon southern Morrowind. Some lesser number remained in the southern marshlands for a time. It didn't necessarily seem that the Argonians intended to claim the land, but whether it was the primary intention of otherwise, it served to ensure that no Dunmer would occupy that general area.

After all of that, Morrowind seemed barely a shadow of what it had once been. The process of slow rebuilding began again, but despair permeated throughout the lands. The fear remained that the Argonians might yet return to continue the assault upon the broken homeland.

A great many Dunmer chose to depart the land altogether. Some small number tried to relocate to the Eastmarch region of Skyrim. Some others headed for Skyrim's Rift region and some number headed for that mining settlement on the western side of the isle of Solstheim. A larger group made their way for Cyrodiil, headed for County Cheydinhal. Back then, that city already hosted a notable Dunmer population. Under Count Indarys, fellow Dunmer could reasonably expect to be far more welcome than some other parts of the Imperial province.

Despite some initial declarations of optimism from the ruling houses, efforts to rebuild Mournhold remained stalled. Some short time after Suvaris had departed the homeland, House Hlaalu had been officially expelled from the Grand Council, allowing House Sadras to rise in its place. House Redoran gained the most prominent position in the new paradigm and eventually shifted the role of capital to Blacklight.

Given his own circumstances, Suvaris could not bear to remain in the homeland. He only found some renewed purpose in assisting other distraught Dunmer fleeing westward over the mountains toward County Cheydinhal. It did not take much at all for him to decide to remain there.

Even if the Empire had failed to provide support for Morrowind when it was truly needed, Count Indarys made some reasonable effort at accommodate refugees coming to his domain. It may have been the case that the Count had not necessarily counted on all those people remaining in his city for the longer term. Nevertheless, they were not turned away.

Suvaris easily understood how others might have blamed the Empire for many of their woes, but he also recognised that nothing was so simple. The initial withdrawal of a large portion of Imperial forces during the Oblivion Crisis was not incomprehensible. At that time, those Oblivion Gates had appeared all over Tamriel. Added to that, it was said that were arguably more of them within Cyrodiil than anywhere else. On top of all of that, an Emperor had just been assassinated, along with all his heirs, leaving High Chancellor Ocato to struggle with trying to manage resultant chaos.

Even after the resolution of the Oblivion Crisis, the Empire could not at all be held responsible for the destruction of Vivec City, or the eruption of the mountain. At worst, the Empire was neglectful in failing to provide adequate aid after the fact.

Even then, though it seemed overlooked by some, Suvaris understood that some number of Imperial Legionnaires drew their last breaths upon the isle of Vvardenfell as those few remaining outposts were swept away. He also understood that, though few in number, those Legion soldiers who remained upon mainland Morrowind also surrendered their lives during the Argonian invasion.

In his mind, the failings of Imperial Cyrodiil were hardly malicious. The Empire failed to protect itself and failed to maintain the will or substance to be able to protect those remaining under its care. From his understanding, the Empire hadn't caused nor provoked the series of calamities, merely failed terribly in response.

The culpability of the Argonians could well be another matter. Whatever the matters of the past, that senseless slaughter across the broken land defied any justification. Though none could suffice, Argonia made no apology for the action. The fractured Empire was in no position of strength to demand anything of the Argonians, let alone anything that might represent any sort of reparation.

After the withdrawal of the invasion forces, dismissive claims had been made that it was all because of a rogue Hist tree taking control of the Saxhleel. Whether there was any truth to that or otherwise, it hardly mattered.

Though Suvaris could not help but hold contempt for those directly involved, he could hardly see the sense in levelling blame upon all Argonians. He understood that those Argonians hailing from parts of County Leyawiin, or other places outside the Black Marsh, had no part in what transpired.

He could take some small solace in the fact that most of those directly involved in the invasion of Morrowind were already dead by then. Added to that, given the relatively shorter lifespan of the Saxhleel, any others involved that actually lived to such an old age would also very soon be gone.

For Suvaris, nothing was forgotten, nor forgiven. Even so, blame could never restore the past or return the dead. Though never forgotten, blame belonged to the past.

If only for a brief moment, his thoughts again began to turn toward his own personal tragedy, but he did his best to shut that down once more. Up to that point, he'd managed to successfully distract himself from going there. The reason for firstly acquiring that book had been to try to learn more of recent developments within the homeland. Instead, he'd found himself going over those events of which he was already quite aware. Suvaris released a heavy sigh, setting aside the book along with those morbid thoughts of times long passed by.

* * *

By that time, the hour had grown late. Though it remained somewhat audible, the noise coming from the tavern down below had eased notably. He decided that he'd best turn in for the evening to be sure that he was up early enough to meet those travelling traders at the arranged time and place.

Sighing again, Suvaris stood and removed his armour, stripping down to his underclothes and neatly laying out his ebony armour for the next morning. He made brief use of the chamber pot, then stifled a mild yawn as he attended to putting out the candles and lamps about the room.

He clambered into that unpleasant bed for the last time and shifted uncomfortably beneath the covers. He'd be out on the roads again the next day with no certainty of precisely where he'd be the same time that next evening. In any case, he'd again be headed for where he'd originally set off for after departing Cheydinhal.

~O~


	7. Chapter 7

Winds of the Ashfall: An Elder Scrolls Tale

Greg J Miller

~O~

Chapter 7

Sundas the 28th of Last Seed 4E71 Morning

It was just shortly before the dawn as Alaron Suvaris arrived at the outskirts of Blacklight, by the road leading southward from the city. All the way up from the portside district and through the central part of town, there were very few people out on any of the streets that early in the morning. He'd spotted only two disinterested city guards. By the time he'd arrived where he was meant to meet up with those traders, there was no one about at all. Just briefly, he'd wondered whether he'd arrived a little too early, or whether he'd missed them altogether.

The clear morning air felt just a little cooler than he'd been expecting. He'd already noted that the bright dawning sky appeared almost completely absent of cloud. Over to the west, there was a line of pale cloud over the Velothi Mountains that might have really been no more than rising mist from the peaks. It seemed that a warm and sunny day was on the way.

Shifting the weight of his travelling pack slightly, Suvaris looked about expectantly once more. Just beginning to again doubt his circumstances, he finally noticed three Dunmer figures emerging from behind a timber structure toward the west of where he was waiting. Two pack-guar were being led along behind them. Though each of them had weapons of some sort, none were armoured. After a further moment, he finally recognised one of the figures as the trader he'd spoken with on the previous day. With a mildly expectant expression, Suvaris remained silent as he waited for them draw near.

"This the one you said?" The second Dunmer looked to be about the same age as Rurvyn. From appearance alone, it was easy to see that they were brothers. Both were a little darker in colouring than Suvaris, with more angular features and heavily ridged brows.

"Yeah, that's him… er, Suvarin?"

"Suvaris. Alaron Suvaris, Fighters Guild." Suvaris tried to maintain an even tone.

"Yeah, er… apologies. You can call me, Faryl." The elder Rurvyn offered his given name, then indicated his companions. "This is me brother, Dravyn. And his lad, Bradyn."

"A pleasure to meet the both of you." Suvaris respectfully inclined his head toward the other two of the Rurvyn clan.

Both responded only with non-verbal acknowledgments.

As the sun was rising above the distant shadow of the angry mountain to the east, Faryl looked toward the southbound road. "We'd best not be wastin' any time. We want to be at Silgrad Tower 'fore we go losin' the daylight."

Suvaris indicated his silent assent. Pausing only to allow Faryl to set the pace, he fell into step by his side. Dravyn and his son gently tugged at the leads holding the pack-guar and they were all on their way.

Glancing toward the east, Suvaris took note of Red Mountain as the sun was edging higher into the sky above it. In the shadow of the western slopes, he could just barely make out what looked like a fairly fresh stream of lava. Only because of the sunlight, he noticed a bit of a haze in the sky about the top of the mountain. The last time that that saw the mountain on a clear day, it had been billowing dark ash clouds. From what he understood, Red Mountain had continued to smoulder on a regular basis over the past decades. However at that particular moment, it seemed that the mountain was relatively quiet.

Along the road ahead, there seemed to be just a bit of mud and soggy patches here and there, but otherwise, it appeared that things had already dried out quite quickly after just one day without rain. Added to that, with the rapidly rising warmth of the morning, it seemed likely that any lasting effects of the past few rainy days would soon be gone.

After only a few moments of silence along the road, Dravyn spoke up. "Faryl says ya want to come with us all the way to Mournhold. Ya know we can't afford to pay ya?"

Suvaris glanced only briefly to Faryl, turning his head slightly toward the brother. "Of course, I understand perfectly."

"Ain't plannin' to go robbin' us, or the like?" Dravyn sounded slightly more nervous than defiant.

Turning again, Suvaris raised his eyebrows at the absurdity of the question.

Faryl turned to look to his brother. "Dravyn, he says he's with the Fighters Guild. Outa Cheydinhal." He returned his gaze toward Suvaris. "Apologies, Sera. Darvyn don't mean nothin' by that. It's just that ya do need to be careful at most times."

Suvaris inclined his head. "I understand perfectly. I take no offence."

Bradyn directed a question. "You headed for Mournhold cos of the Fighters Guild?"

"No. It's a personal matter."

The younger Dunmer pressed further. "So then, it ain't about that Fighters Guild running outa Mournhold?"

Suvaris was only mildly surprised, having heard some of the rumours before. "I was of the understanding that the Mournhold Guildhall was no more, along with Kragenmoor and the others."

Faryl interjected. "Dunno if they're proper like Fighters Guild, but that's what they go by. Least, way I hear it."

Suvaris' silent expression prompted him to elaborate.

With a slight frown, the trader continued. "Well, don't think they're the same ones as from before. Like over in Cyrodiil. Way I heard it, back after the Oblivion Crisis, only thing keepin' the Fighters Guild goin' about these parts was old Helseth and House Hlaalu. Weren't no proper help outa that lot in the Empire."

Suvaris' thoughtful nodding indicated his reserved agreement with that notion.

"After Red Mountain… and then them lizards… well, I heard that just about all the old Fighters Guild was either dead or gone somewhere else. Cept for just a few headed back for Mournhold."

"Are you saying that the Mournhold Guildhall was again established some time after the invasion from Argonia?" Suvaris had only previously heard that an unaffiliated group of Guild Fighters might have been operating around that city during recent decades, but little else.

Faryl shrugged mildly. "Dunno everything 'bout it. Only heard that some of 'em set up there for a bit, way back when. Then after they got ridda House Hlaalu… Redoran, Indoril an' Dres backed that Fighters Guild at Mournhold for a bit… and then they didn't."

Suvaris passed him another look of confusion.

Faryl shrugged again, then resumed. "Well, I heard there was no Fighters Guild there for a while. More than ten years, maybe? Then, after that Umbriel Crisis thingy… Well, some bunch set up there again, callin' their-selves Fighters Guild. Dunno if they got official backin', or the like, but they been there more than a good twenty years or so by now."

"I see." Suvaris sounded pensive as he digested those details.

From behind, Dravyn prompted further. "So, that Mournhold lot ain't any part of your Fighters Guild then?"

Suvaris glanced back only briefly. "No, not by my understanding."

Bradyn spoke up again. "I hear they got some sort of guidebook or code of rules or somethin'… somethin' that only proper Fighters Guild get to read and follow."

Without turning, Suvaris nodded slightly. "The 'Fighters Guild Charter and Guide'. Most likely an older edition, I might think."

Faryl jumped back in. "Wouldn't know 'bout that. Just that they do contract jobs, mostly 'round Mournhold an' such. Can't say I ever seen 'em anywhere west of the Thir."

"And the nature of those contract jobs?"

The trader shrugged. "Some paid guard jobs… some helpin' out dealin' with wild beastie attacks and such… an' they still get some Argonian raiders comin' up from certain parts every so often."

"The Argonians?" Suvaris thought that they no longer posed a continuing threat.

Dravyn responded first. "Ain't all of 'em. Just some outlaws and raiders, like."

Faryl resumed. "Whoever's in charge of Argonia don't care 'bout any of that. Only long as we all stay well north of the swamplands. For the most part, the lizards only seem to worry 'bout their own side… wherever the border's s'posed to be, right now. It's just that some of their outlaws and raiders don't even care 'bout the border."

Dravyn added a counterpoint. "Ain't likely to see any of that along this run."

"No, not likely." Faryl agreed with his brother.

Suvaris had already noted the rather ordinary weapons that the three traders had on their persons. Faryl's and Dravyn's steel short-swords and daggers did not look well maintained or particularly formidable. Bradyn's shortened bonemold bow looked to be of fair craftsmanship, but that provided no indication of his archery skill.

Suvaris casually voiced his passing thought. "Am I to understand that the three of you generally travel the trade routes without any guards?"

Bradyn's voice carried a tone of bravado. "We can take care of ourselves."

Faryl sounded only quietly confident. "We ain't no Fighters Guild or the like, but between the three of us, we get by." He paused to pat the spell scrolls tucked into the strap under his vest. "If the need comes up, I always got a few of these kept handy."

"Of course." Suvaris returned an agreeable nod. He assumed that if the trader was carrying a variety of prepared enchantment scrolls, none of them were likely adept at wielding magic on their own. Despite what some Imperials generally thought, not every Dunmer was a master of magic. Still in the case of those three, he imagined that circumstance would more likely be due to an absence of training, than anything else.

In that respect, even Suvaris was far more skilled with the blades than with magic. Of course, he'd trained in the use of some basic healing magic. He also knew a couple of useful shielding spells and some low-level frost spells and the like. Aside from that, he'd never really found the need or desire to pursue more than that.

Looking up to the clear sky overhead, Dravyn passed another comment. "Already looks like a warm one on the way."

"Looks like." Faryl echoed his brother's opinion.

Suvaris only returned another silent nod of casual agreement, noting to himself that though the day had started quite cool, the morning was indeed rapidly warming. He couldn't say if it was just his imagination, but it seemed to him like it was feeling notably hotter than it had been a few weeks beforehand. It probably didn't help that the air seemed relatively still and absent of any promise of a breeze.

After that, the conversation seemed to fall away. The only ambient sounds came from their booted footfalls upon the roadway, along with the noises of the loaded pack-guar padding along behind and huffing and puffing as they maintained the steady pace.

They soon passed by that side road leading away to the nearby village of Cormaris View. From that vantage, only one of the lumber mills was clearly visible. The main village remained out of view, behind the sloping hillside and scattering of trees surrounded by lesser shrubs.

In passing, one particular oddity caught Suvaris' eye. Where the patchy grass gave way to a large rocky outcrop, a single broad and towering mushroom with stringy mosses draped from its cap loomed over a patch of ferns. From his observation, though there were numerous smaller mushrooms and fungi common to that region, the larger varieties had always been somewhat less prevalent near to Blacklight. Standing at more than twice his height, that one stood out as notably unusual. Though he wasn't quite certain, he thought that it looked like some variety of Emperor Parasol.

After gradually winding its way around Lake Cormaris, the road soon continued southward more directly. Looking westward across a lesser stream feeding into the Cormaris River, a few farmhouses could be seen with nearby fields of crops. It was all too far off to tell what was being cultivated there.

From that point onward, there would be nothing of note to see but rolling hills and wilderness as the road wound its way south toward the next township along that route.

Though it had certainly been quiet along that stretch of road when he'd passed that way about a week earlier, Suvaris knew better than to allow himself to become too complacent of such things. Even if it seemed that those roads were hardly busy enough to attract bandits, he expected that it was always prudent to remain vigilant. If not roadside bandits, then the potential threat of creatures of the wilds needed to be kept in mind. Though he'd not yet actually seen any during his recent travel, he remained fully mindful that he'd heard the noises of nix-hounds more than once.

Just briefly, Suvaris had taken note of the rather sickly looking beech trees of that region. By his recollection, they did appear rather more poorly than those of the Deshaan Plains or even those of the western Stonefalls region. Though some of the trunks seemed broad and tall, the sparse foliage above spoke of some struggle with local conditions.

He shook off those thoughts and tried to redirect his attention toward the lower thickets of shrubbery in view. After all, any unexpected dangers were most likely to come from such places. He tuned out the sounds of distant birds, listening for any sign of other more dangerous creatures.

* * *

By around midday, Suvaris and the traders were finally coming up on the next sign of civilisation along that rough dirt road. There were only a couple of small farmhouses just outside of the township of Soluthis. Unlike some of the Redoran styled structures of that town, the farmhouses were more rudimentary timber affairs, not unlike what he'd grown accustomed to commonly seeing in some of Cyrodiil's smaller villages. He understood that there was supposed to be more farmland somewhere over the western side of town, but that remained out of immediate view.

A few leagues back, Faryl had already suggested that they'd be stopping at Soluthis for a short rest. By the time they were arriving at the roadside inn by the eastern edge of town, the rising heat of the day had become quite noticeable and there still seemed no sign of anything more than the barest hint of a breeze. Suvaris had already found himself reaching for his water flask more than once before they made it there.

Aside from the growing discomfort of the late summer's day, they'd encountered no delay or trouble along the way. They hadn't even seen anyone else along the road between Blacklight and that smaller town and despite some mild concern, no wild creatures had cross their path.

Since the traders weren't delivering anything to that location or planning to be there for very long, there was no intent to go inside the inn. As Dravyn led the guar over to the water trough by the front of the inn, the rest of the party settled in the shade of the nearest tree.

After setting down his travelling pack, if only to alleviate his discomfort for a short while, Suvaris removed his helmet and gauntlets. He reached into his pack and retrieved a fresh apple he'd acquired the day before. Though apples did seem uncommonly expensive in Blacklight, he still considered them ideal for travelling food.

Biting into his apple, Suvaris cast a westward glance along the broad street running up the middle of Soluthis. Though he could hardly see everything, he thought that it didn't look so different from what he recalled from decades past. There might have been either more or fewer structures, but it was hard to easily tell. Only a few of those structures were of taller construction, but no more than two levels in height. At best, it still appeared no more than a modest sized township. Even though some of the Redoran styled buildings undoubtedly hid more beneath the ground, it seemed even smaller than Silgrad Tower. He found it difficult to understand how either of those towns had tried to claim status as cities during times long past.

From his recollection, more than seven decades earlier, an Oblivion Gate had appeared somewhere between that location and the sea to the east. He'd heard that a number of the town's defenders had died during the Oblivion Crisis, but the township itself had been far enough away from that gate to avoid the fate of Ald'ruhn.

Suvaris imagined that some of Blacklight's people might have come to that town during that time when that city was briefly abandoned. Just before he'd departed Morrowind, he understood that some Dunmer fleeing the Argonian hordes had come that far north seeking refuge, but it hardly seemed that the population of Soluthis had remained swollen in any observable fashion.

Wiping the beads of sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, Suvaris noted the whitened peaks of the Velothi Mountains rising in the west. Those snow-capped mountains seemed just slightly strange, given the uncomfortable heat about the lowlands.

Leaving the thirsty guar by the trough, Dravyn had returned to eat and drink with brother and his son. They all sat in silence for a few lengthy moments.

Nibbling away at a crusty bun, Bradyn kept returning his gaze to Suvaris. It seemed obvious enough that he had something on his mind. Eventually, he gave voice to the question he'd been holding onto. "So, if it ain't 'bout the Fighters Guild, what's Mournhold 'bout?"

Finishing what he was chewing on, Suvaris regarded the younger Dunmer impassively for a moment. "I've heard word of a Travlon Suvaris around Mournhold. Have any of you heard that name or something similar?"

A round of awkward shrugs and non-verbal negative responses accompanied vague expressions.

Bradyn spoke again. "That somebody related?"

Suvaris tilted his head slightly. "Not anyone that I was aware of. I was told that he was perhaps about your age. I only recently heard of it in Cheydinhal, from a travelling trader named Ralas."

That caught Faryl's attention. "Teldyn Ralas? I've run into him before."

"I couldn't say if his name was Teldyn. He only mentioned his family name."

Faryl tried to describe him. "A slightly shorter fella. Maybe only a bit shorter than me. Maybe about my age. With kinda reddish-brown hair, but… not so much about here." His gestures indicated a receding hairline about a prominent 'widows-peak'.

Suvaris nodded. "Sounds like the same individual."

Faryl seemed pleased with himself; as though recognising the name of another travelling trader was a notable achievement.

Dravyn weighed in. "So, this Tralvon?"

"Travlon. Travlon was my brothers name."

Dravyn returned a nod. "Travlon. So, this… this other Travlon ain't your brother?"

Suvaris shook his head mildly. "Had he lived, my brother would have been near to my own age. Even his son would have been near to your age by now. To the best of my understanding, none of my family survived the Argonian invasion."

"Bloody lizards." Dravyn's spat the words. His dark expression telegraphed his clear contempt. He seemed like he had more to say on the matter, but held onto it.

Faryl altered the tone of conversation, just slightly. "So, you think you might have some other family that you don't know about, or somethin' like that?"

"Something like that."

Faryl frowned. "Can't say I ever heard of anyone else goin' by Suvaris b'fore."

Suvaris shook his head slightly. "To the best of my knowledge, it is not a common family name at all." He hesitated slightly, before deciding to continue. "As I said, to the best of my understanding, every member of my immediate family perished some time ago. And so, hearing of that name… well, that raised my interest enough to go looking into it."

Faryl nodded thoughtfully. "Makes sense, I s'pose. We can keep a look out for anyone by that name, but like I said, ain't heard of anyone b'fore."

Suvaris inclined his head, indicating his acceptance.

Bradyn had been silently studying Suvaris during the exchange. He still seemed to have questions on his mind. "So, you ain't from Cheydinhal then? I mean, not to begin with."

Suvaris suppressed a mild sigh. "No, not to begin with. I grew up in a small farming settlement, just south of Kragenmoor."

"South of Kragenmoor?" Bradyn frowned, seemingly trying to place the location.

"That settlement is no longer there. Though I began as a farmer, like the rest of my family, some of my skills became… broadened. In time, that enabled me to take work with the Fighters Guild and supplement the family income."

"In Mournhold?"

"No, not directly. I was with the Kragenmoor Guildhall. At least up until the invasion… and the razing of that city."

Dravyn interrupted the discourse. "Enough sittin' about an' yappin'. We better go get them guar and get moving along."

Faryl agreed with his brother. "Yeah, we better. Likely to be goin' on dark by the time we get to Silgrad."

Dravyn and his son retrieved the pack-guar and then they were quickly on their way again, headed southward for the next destination along the way.

~O~


	8. Chapter 8

Winds of the Ashfall: An Elder Scrolls Tale

Greg J Miller

~O~

Chapter 8

Sundas the 28th of Last Seed 4E71 Afternoon

Even though the day had passed the midway mark before they'd left behind the outskirts of Soluthis, it seemed that the rising heat not yet quite reached its peak. Though it most likely only grew a little warmer into the earlier part of the afternoon, it felt like more than that as the party steadily marched along the road. Added to that, it seemed that the heat remained sustained throughout most of that afternoon. Only once or twice had the promise of a subtle breeze arisen, only to quickly fall away to nothing. The only illusion of air current came from maintaining a steady pace along the road.

After departing that township, Alaron Suvaris cast a few hopeful glances toward the relatively clear skies. The movement of a few wispy streaks of high cloud provided indication of some upper winds flowing from the south to the north. However, that didn't seem to be bringing the relief of any gentle gusts near to the ground. He also knew well enough that those prevailing southern winds had a great deal to do with that burst of warmer weather.

Perhaps only about a league or so out from Soluthis, Dravyn called for a piss-break as he paused by the side of the road. Only since one of them wanted to stop, everyone stepped over to the roadside for the same reason. Obviously, there was no point in staggering breaks for that sort of thing. If they were stopping for that every hour, they'd never make it to Silgrad Tower by evening.

In that regard, the two pack-guar obviously didn't care much either way whether they stopped or not. It was always a good idea to stay ahead of them, since they more likely to just let fly with their waste without breaking stride.

Though Faryl Rurvyn also seemed to remain fairly alert along the road, Suvaris did his best to keep a sharp eye out for unexpected trouble. Of course, listening out for the telltale signs of wild animals also remained a high priority.

Not so far from where they'd briefly stopped, Suvaris had been briefly alarmed as they passed near to a small stream running by the eastern side of the road. A group of small brown birds took flight from a little copse of stringy pale-barked birch near the stream. It wasn't immediately clear whether the birds had directly reacted to their approach, or whether something else had set them off. In either case, nothing else emerged to provide direct concern.

A few leagues south of Soluthis and looking eastward, though most of the lower parts of the island of Vvardenfell couldn't be easily seen that from vantage, the angry mountain rising from its centre was certainly another matter. Though Red Mountain still seemed relatively quiet, that mild haze had steadily spread out across that part of the sky over the course of the day. It meant that even though it wasn't so clearly visible, something of substance had to be rising up from the mountain's craters.

Mildly distracted by the landscape, Suvaris had noted that the further south they travelled toward the upper Stonefalls region, the fewer of those sickly beech trees came into view. As he knew well enough, though still hardly plentiful, there were a greater number of those kinds of trees in the south-western parts of Stonefalls beyond Kragenmoor. They were even more common across the more fertile parts of the Deshaan Plains in the south.

Looking over toward the western highlands below the tall mountains, the mottled greenery reflected something more like what Suvaris had grown accustomed to seeing throughout various parts of Cyrodiil. The pine and oak were not quite as hardy as those over the other side of the mountains, but looked far better than the twisted oaks and mahogany that struggled in parts of the Stonefalls region north of the Deshaan.

Thus far, Suvaris found the three traders to be fair travelling companions. Though not unwaveringly taciturn, for the most part they kept to the main task at hand, generally speaking only when necessary. Travelling along those unfamiliar roads, he preferred that to the almost incessant chattering of that Atheron lad during the northward journey of about a week before.

Most of the afternoon's march passed without any significant incident, but not without a just few brief moments of alarm for one reason or another.

Just short of half way to Silgrad, the pack-guar became agitated, breaking stride and pulling over to the far side of the road. It took a long moment to recognise the cause of their behaviour. A kwama forager wriggled out from the edge of a patch of ferns near to some knee-height mushrooms. The mottled brown worm flopped about on the ground, briefly rearing up as though tasting the air through its toothy maw.

It seemed that they were just far enough from the creature that it couldn't quite detect them, though it seemed to know that something was nearby. That one had been about the length of a forearm, which was pretty typical. Though they weren't really so dangerous on their own, they could sometimes be tenaciously aggressive. Especially if there was a colony located close by. Even so, a lone kwama forager was more likely to get itself killed than cause any harm. Since it wasn't directly in their way, they gave it a wide berth and let it be.

A little later in the afternoon, a pair of figures with heavy packs on their backs approached along the road from the south. Soon enough, it became easy to tell that they were also travelling Dunmer traders. Though no names were exchanged, Faryl seemed to know those other two, if only casually.

During their relaxed exchange, Faryl mentioned that they were headed for Silgrad Tower and the other pair said they would be stopping at Soluthis on their way to Blacklight. It was suggested that the road immediately to the south had been clear of trouble. Dravyn made brief mention of that kwama forager just up the road to the north, then went on to briefly talk about the threats of large bug-like kwama warriors and the dangers of those little kwama scribs, with their paralysis poisons.

As he silently waited, Suvaris noted the behaviour of the two pack-guar. After only a moment of standing idle, they started nuzzling and jostling one another in a playful manner. Though they stood upon just two sturdy legs, the long heavy tails balanced against the heavy weight of their large heads. They seemed unconcerned by the heavy loads upon their backs.

Those tiny little arms and fragile clawed hands seemed completely useless for any purpose other than scratching the sides of their heads. Their arms really did look like some sort of joke of nature, or of the gods, or perhaps both. Though supposedly related to guar, the wild alit and kagouti didn't even have any visible forearms like that.

Unlike those other vaguely similar reptilian creatures, the guar always looked like they were happy or smiling. Though it might have been hard to really tell, since their faces did always look like that. Still, the look in their eyes did seem to convey the general buoyancy of their mood.

After the traders had finally finished, passing further comments about the warmer weather, the two travelling parties broke off to continue their separate ways along the road.

It was perhaps just a few leagues out from Silgrad when an unexpected potential danger arose. Over the sounds of their booted footfalls, Suvaris had just heard strange noises coming from somewhere up ahead. He reached out for Faryl's shoulder to halt his pace and signalled with his other hand to urge the other two to pull up behind.

Perhaps fifty or sixty paces ahead, a pair of scuttlers emerged from behind the kanet bushes and heather on the western side of the road. Though they looked something like tiny kagouti, scuttlers generally reached no taller than shin-height. Of course, those little ground foragers were not at all dangerous. However, that was not what Suvaris had thought he'd heard.

Just as those scuttlers made it across the road to the bushes of the eastern side, a lesser-sized nix-hound bound from the kanet bushes, making unusual hissing and chattering noises. The dog-shaped insect-like creature seemingly remained focussed upon the pursuit of its intended prey. It continued onward across the road and then quickly disappeared from view, headed eastward for the marshlands of the upper Ashunor River.

After waiting a further moment to be reasonably certain that the nix-hound wasn't coming back or that it wasn't part of a larger pack, Suvaris turned about to glance behind.

He'd observed Bradyn standing by with his bonemold bow at the ready and an arrow drawn. His father had his short-sword out, also looking ready to act. Faryl had his hand under his vest, seemingly reaching for a scroll, but he hadn't yet gone for his sword. Though the need hadn't actually arisen, it seemed that they were all ready to defend themselves. Even if their defensive skills remained untested, Suvaris had been mildly impressed of their apparent measure of preparedness.

Only once they'd observed that Suvaris appeared seemed convinced that the threat had eased, the three traders returned to a more relaxed state, setting aside their weapons. With the potential danger passed, they resumed the southbound march.

* * *

Cresting the last hill of that leg of the journey, the sun was just starting to disappear behind the Velothi Mountains as the township of Silgrad Tower finally came into view. It was only half an hour beforehand that a sustainable breeze finally arose. Though the wind provided some mild relief from the lasting heat of that day, since it was coming up from the south, it wasn't really a cool breeze. Even so, it was better than no breeze at all.

The crescent of Secunda had already appeared above the eastern horizon, before the sun had quite set. The larger moon had yet to rise in the sky. From observation of the previous evening, it seemed to Suvaris that the lesser moon was waxing toward its first quarter as Masser had just passed full and was beginning to wane.

Maintaining his pace ahead of the guar he was leading, Dravyn looked up toward the gradually darkening sky. "Looks like we made good enough time."

"Looks like." His brother casually agreed.

With that next destination in clear view and no further likelihood of encountering any trouble, Suvaris also relaxed a little. Approaching the northern edge of town, his eye was drawn toward something slightly unusual. He spotted a large and shaggy Nordic hound snoozing by a fence. He'd often enough heard some Nords boasting of those large hunting dogs of Skyrim, scoffing at those smaller dogs more common to parts of Cyrodiil. Still, he'd rarely seen any of those large hounds further south than County Bruma and he couldn't recall having seen any in Morrowind before.

That large dog had indirectly drawn his attention to a small farm that he hadn't noticed when he'd been headed northward the week before. It had been easy enough to miss, since it was tucked in behind the structures near the northern corner of the town.

At a glance, it was obvious that crops were not the primary focus of the farm. The large open pens behind the sleeping dog were a flurry of movement with dozens of bantam guar moving about.

That sparked a memory from his childhood. He recalled that when he was very young, his father had told him and his brother that if they fed them well enough, the bantam guar at their farm would grow into full-sized guar.

Of course those small bantam guar weren't even related to proper guar, or even alit or kagouti. Aside from being reptilian, and also having thick tails and large heads, they didn't even look so much like guar. If anything, they looked more like plucked chickens, only with beakless reptile-like features.

He later came to understand that even though they didn't look much alike, bantam guar and scuttlers were supposedly related creatures. Though he found it even somewhat harder to credit, it was said that both those smaller wingless animals were distant cousins to the large leather-winged cliff racers and those smaller cliff darters.

Looking ahead along the road toward the structures by the eastern edge of Silgrad, Suvaris noticed a pair of Redoran guard in full bonemold armour, including those full-face helmets. They were standing casually by the corner at the main street leading up the middle of town. Since road patrols seemed uncommon, he expected that they were stationed at the town, serving as town guards.

At first glance, that township seemed only a bit larger than Soluthis. Still, it was the second largest place of the Velothis region. An idle thought reminded him that Blacklight had originally been known as Velothis, some time in the distant past. Though he didn't know exactly when it happened, the Dunmeri name of Baan Malur came to take its place. Then later, the direct Imperial translation of Blacklight became the common name of the northern city.

Even though Silgrad Tower was a bigger place than Soluthis, most of the structures stood no taller than those of that other township and were of a similar mix of styles. However, that tall stone tower that gave the place its name stood out as a notable exception.

The Silgrad Tower appeared much older than anything else in the town. It was constructed from a darker coloured stone in a style that harkened back to earlier times. Though he didn't know for certain, since the wear and general styling of the tower looked Velothi, he imagined that it might have been there since the time of the Chimer, back before Azura had transformed his ancestors into the Dunmer.

Only since it was the place where he'd stopped earlier in the month, Suvaris had been subconsciously heading toward the Bitter View Inn, near where those Redoran guards were standing about. Given that there was no way to see the Bitter Coast of Vvardenfell from that area, he held no idea of the meaning behind the naming of that inn.

Noting where Suvaris seemed to be heading, Faryl spoke up. "We ain't goin' to no inns or taverns while we're at Silgrad."

Adjusting his meandering, Suvaris looked to the elder Rurvyn with raised eyebrows.

Faryl explained. "We're goin' to the smith's, over the southern side of town. We got an arrangement… cos Girvas is married to the cousin of Bradyn's mother. He lets us camp out the back of his stables. Course, I ain't sayin' there's no reason you can't go to one of the inns or taverns."

"Of course." Suvaris' expression carried his understanding.

Dravyn tossed in his opinion. "Tavern way up the main street on the left might be more to yer likin'."

Faryl clarified. "Tavern's run by Girvas's cousin, Bovis. Tell him we sent ya an' he'll treat ya right. Or you can camp out with us. For you to decide."

Suvaris inclined his head in acceptance. He noticed a gust of wind whipping up the dust on the road heading southward from the town. Though he wasn't averse to camping outside, it wasn't commonly his first choice, with a better alternative at hand.

Maintaining a pleasant tone, Suvaris gave voice to his thoughts. "I do think that I might go take a look at that tavern."

Faryl shrugged. "Fair enough. Just make sure yer ready in the mornin', if ya wanna keep travellin' with us. We'll be headin' off at dawn again. You can meet us on the road at the southern edge of town."

Suvaris returned an agreeable nod. "At dawn. I understand."

Further brief expressions were exchanged and they parted company. The traders continued onward for the southern side of Silgrad, as Suvaris turned to head up the main street running through the middle of town.

* * *

With the daylight rapidly giving way to evening, Suvaris looked up along the broad street. Though he'd not paid much attention when passing through a week earlier, it seemed that the town was not so different from how it appeared decades before. Some structures might have been newer or renewed in some fashion. Some were much older.

To his thinking, the structures of the township did seem to represent an odd mix of construction. Just a few were of that northern Redoran design. Several buildings were of more rustic timber construction and some displayed a dominant Imperial influence. As he'd already noted, aside from that tall tower on his right, only a few structures rose to two levels and there was only one that he could see rising to three levels in height.

It had the general look of a place that had been partially rebuilt in a haphazard manner a number of times over the many years. Given the long history of the region and disputes of past ages, that hardly seemed surprising.

Though most of the Velothis region of Morrowind had remained relatively stable since the time of Tiber Septim, that hadn't always been the case. There were earlier times when Cyrodiil had intruded upon those lands and times when the Nords of Skyrim made claims for greater territory. Long before all of that, there were the struggles between the Chimer and the Dwemer, who were already occupying the land before his Chimer ancestors even arrived in the region. Even so, all of that was long ago.

Looking forward beyond the western side of Silgrad, Suvaris could see farms about the nearby hills outside the township. In the shadows of the highlands, the ruins of some older structures could just be seen amongst the sparse trees. It was a reminder that Silgrad had been a much larger place during earlier times.

His attention returned to the street as he spotted the tavern that the Rurvyn's mentioned. The prominent signage was in Dunmeris, but he'd mentally read the name as its Imperial meaning. It was called the 'Brandy and Egg'.

Leaving aside the signage, it was difficult to place the style of the tavern as anything of specific Dunmeri construction. It certainly wasn't typical of Redoran design. It seemed a odd mix of Imperial, Nord and non-specific Dunmer influence.

Just before going into the tavern, Suvaris noticed a lad making his way along the broad street through the middle of town. He was carrying a short ladder, a burning torch, and large skin slung over his shoulder. His activity soon became obvious as his set his ladder against one of the lampposts along the street. He topped up the oil in the lamp's reservoir, then set his torch to light the lamp. A gust of wind threatened to snuff out the flames of both his torch and the lamp, but he managed to get the job done, before looking toward the next one.

Bracing himself for a possibly noisy tavern, Suvaris pushed open the timber door and stepped inside. He was pleasantly surprised to find only a restrained murmur of voices, rather than the raucous noise he'd endured near the docks of Blacklight.

There were only eight or nine patrons making up three groups seated about the tables of the tavern area. Either eating or drinking, the conversations seemed relatively quiet and subdued. Except for the old Bosmer of short stature sitting with someone, all the others were native Dunmer. Without exception, from the way were plainly dressed, each of them appeared commoners of moderate means.

The appearance of an expensively attired armoured Dunmer standing by the front door caused a few of them to briefly turn their heads in mild curiosity. However, no one seemed really all that interested.

Suvaris spotted the service counter over toward his right and made his way in that direction. The male Dunmer with a craggy face that accentuated his angular features and heavy brow watched his approach with mild expectation. The tavern owner sported a full head of dark hair tied back into a tail. His wispy tuft of beard, reminded Suvaris of just why he'd never bothered with trying to grow one. It really looked more like a failure to properly shave. Of course, that assessment was something he'd be keeping to himself.

Suvaris was internally debating the value of actually mentioning the Rurvyn traders to the tavern keeper. Especially since it seemed likely that those traders were generally more inclined to exploit extended family connections, rather than directly pass coin.

Affecting something of a forced smile below a more serious expression, the barkeep spoke up first. "Ju'rohn, sera."

"Ju'rohn… sera" Suvaris returned the greeting, though somewhat awkwardly.

"Name's Bovis. You're a new face in here. You new to Silgrad?"

"Yes, ah… Suvaris, Alaron Suvaris. I'm just passing through."

Bovis responded with a subtle nod. "So then, what can I do ya for?"

Noticing the prominent sign behind the counter with some sort of menu listing written in Dunmeris script, Suvaris hesitated momentarily with his mouth partly open.

Bovis pressed on. "We do brandy and we do eggs. We do other stuff as well, but that's what we do best. Everyone says so."

"Eggs?"

"Yeah, the regular kind from bantam guar. No fancy kwama eggs here."

Suvaris returned an understanding nod. "And the brandy?"

"Vintner in Silgrad makes the best Comberry Brandy around. We got other regular stuff as well, but we got the best brandy about these parts. Everyone says so."

Suvaris maintained an impassive expression. "I suppose that I should heed the common advice and try the brandy and the eggs."

"Can't go wrong with that." Bovis looked pleased.

"I was hoping for one other thing. A place to stay for the evening?"

"Sure thing. I got a coupla rooms upstairs. You plannin' on stayin' around at all?"

"No, no. Just the one night. I intend to be gone with the dawn."

They went on to briefly negotiate prices for the room rental, food and drink. After coin was exchanged, Suvaris waited a short while before his meal was readied.

He soon found what Bovis labelled as 'eggs' to be more agreeable than what he'd really expected. The blended eggs were liberally mixed with finely chopped onions, leek, and some other tubers, which he couldn't immediately identify due to the mixing of spices. It was also moderately salted, but not so much as to make it unpalatable.

Even the Comberry Brandy seemed better than anticipated. Though he was not quite certain of why, it seemed somewhat less bitter than what he recalled of others he'd previously sampled. He supposed that it might well be the best brandy of those parts at that time.

After finishing up his meal, Suvaris made use of the bathroom facilities, then headed on upstairs to retire to his rented room.

* * *

Given what the rental was costing him, he hadn't been expecting much. In that regard, he hadn't been so surprised. The room was clean and tidy, but that was easily the best that could be said of it. Aside from the small bed, there was just a single chair and small cupboard by the wall. A small window faced the south.

Before lighting the candles set upon the windowsill, he looked out through the window over the two rooves between the tavern the southern side of town. By the moonlight, he could see that the wind had become a little gusty and was blowing some of the trees near to the edge of town. That explained the muted noise that he thought he could hear coming from outside.

He'd noticed that it had been cooling quite quickly since the sun had fallen. He'd hoped that the breeze might carry on through the evening and into the next morning. By his estimate, a cooler day than the one that just finished would certainly make for more pleasant travelling.

After lighting the candles, Suvaris set down his travelling pack upon the top of the cupboard, along with his helmet and gauntlets. He pulled off his boots and then reached into his pack. He rummaged about until he found what he was looking for.

He held no desire to again examine that historical book that he'd looked at the previous evening. Instead, he selected one of those other books he'd acquired in Blacklight.

He'd only purchased that particular book because he'd recognised the title. He'd remembered hearing of it in casual conservation with Fighters Guild comrades a few years before, but he'd never recalled having actually seen a copy until he spotted it in that Blacklight bookstore. It was a work of light fiction called 'Pirates of the Abecean'.

That book served to remind him that he'd not seen Forester and his wife for more than a year. Even though they'd retired from active duty with the Skingrad Fighters Guild about six or seven years earlier, he'd still kept in irregular contact with them, visiting with them upon rare occasion, when circumstance permitted.

When he'd last seen them, he'd made an idle comment about one day going back to Morrowind for a brief visit. However, at the time it really had been no more than an offhand comment in response to something Forester had been suggesting.

Though nothing had been set in stone, he was aware that Forester and Rena were intending to meet up with Pinewatch and Northwind at Weye to attend the Emperor's Festival during Frostfall. He'd said that if nothing interfered, he would most likely join them in the Imperial City.

Even though that was still weeks off, once he'd decided that he was setting off for Morrowind, he became somewhat less certain of that intent. Before leaving Cheydinhal, he'd asked young Aldreth to send brief correspondence to Forester, informing of where he'd gone and the basic reason behind it.

Positioning himself in the chair near the candlelight, Suvaris opened the book. He wasn't planning on staying up too late. He intended only to read for an hour or two, hoping that he would quickly tire enough to easily fall asleep early and then be up and on his way before the dawn.

~O~


	9. Chapter 9

Winds of the Ashfall: An Elder Scrolls Tale

Greg J Miller

~O~

Chapter 9

Morndas the 29th of Last Seed 4E71 Morning

Just as he'd planned, Alaron Suvaris rose before the sun. Once he'd attended to immediate matters, then gathered his belongings and dressed in his ebony armour, he left the rented room above the tavern. Downstairs, he was mildly surprised to find the place empty and unattended. Not having the time to wait about for anyone, he left the key to the room on the service counter and quickly departed the Brandy and Egg.

With the sun yet to crest the eastern horizon, the muted colours of the morning remained slightly subdued as Suvaris stepped out onto the main street of Silgrad. Turning eastward and heading directly for the main road running past the township, he noticed what appeared to be a couple of pale coloured moths sailing past on the mild southerly breeze.

Only from hearing the occasional noise outside, he'd been vaguely aware of some gusty winds persisting through parts of the evening. It seemed to have eased to only a light breeze at some point. There were just a few wispy clouds drifting high in the otherwise clear sky and the morning air did seem quite cool. However, it was fair to recall that the previous day had also started off fairly cool, so that wasn't necessarily any clear indication of just what might lay ahead for that day.

Doing his best not to be late, Suvaris quickened his stride along the last part of the broad street up the centre of Silgrad. Except for just one or two that he'd noticed, most of those sparsely spaced street lamps had burned out by that time of the morning. Other than only the one person leaving the western end of town, headed toward the farmlands, no one else appeared to be out and about on the street at that early hour.

At the eastern end of the central street, Suvaris turned south and maintained that brisk pace along the main road skirting along the outer edge of town. He again noted another couple of fluttering insects drift by on the breeze. He then realised that they weren't actually moths, but white butterflies. From his recollection, they weren't necessarily so uncommon, but it seemed slightly odd to see them fluttering about so early in the morning.

As he arrived at the southern corner of the township, Suvaris noticed the Rurvyn traders and their pack-guar coming along behind the houses, obviously having just left the back of the smith's. Looking off in the opposite direction, he noted that the sun was just about to rise above the horizon, a little to the right of Red Mountain.

Faryl spoke up with mild cheer. "Mornin' to ya."

"And to you all." Suvaris inclined his head, extending a broadened response.

Dravyn and Bradyn merely returned mildly courteous nods of acknowledgment.

Faryl kept moving toward the main road. "Was a bit windy, last night."

Suvaris politely agreed. "Yes, I'd noticed."

"Was talkin' about Dravyn."

"Shut yer face." The brother's sharp response sounded only half-serious.

Faryl chuckled mildly to himself as he took the lead along the road. Suvaris quickly fell into step at his side. As before, the other two held back a little, leading the guar along behind them.

Young Bradyn weighed in with his opinion. "Least it wasn't so hot, after them winds came up. I'll take windy weather over stinkin' hot anytime."

Dravyn called ahead to Suvaris. "You get looked after by Bovis?"

Suvaris glanced back only briefly. "Yes, I found his tavern easily enough and the accommodations provided were satisfactory. Of course, the brandy and the eggs were both better than satisfactory."

Dravyn grunted. "Yeah, everyone says so."

The southerly breeze turned gusty for a few moments, whipping up a little dust along the road ahead. However, it wasn't just the dust that drew attention. Several more of those white butterflies took flight as the low bushes along the roadside were shaken in the wind. Looking further out, a greater number of those butterflies could be seen floating on the winds.

"Heh, will ya take a look at all that. Don't see that so often." Faryl's excitable comment reflected what Suvaris was already thinking.

"Gotta be hundreds of 'em." Bradyn sounded a little astonished.

Dravyn weighed in. "Thousands, more like."

Suvaris agreed with the estimate. "Yes, at the very least." Looking toward the south, the small white wings seemed to fill the air for as far as the eye could see.

"Don't normally see that many about." Dravyn sounded almost suspicious.

Faryl agreed with his brother. "No, not all at once."

Though it did seem unusual, Suvaris remained more reserved. "From my younger days, I seem to recall that those particular butterflies were generally much more common further south, but still… rarely so many all at once."

Faryl spoke again. "Yeah, we seen 'em before too, but not like that many."

Dravyn voiced a notion. "Almost like some sorta plague from one of the gods, or else somethin' ya might expect outa that Sheogorath character."

Rather than citing the workings of that Daedric Prince of madness, Suvaris held a more rational explanation in mind. "I might think that the sudden burst of unusually warm weather must have caused all those butterflies to hatch from their cocoons all at the very same time. Along with that, those gusty southerly winds have probably blown them northward from the Deshaan. I've seen something like that before, though perhaps not quite so many as this."

Bradyn weighed in. "I'm with the Guild Fighter. Not everything's 'bout the gods."

His father frowned at him. "Not everything, but more than enough things."

Faryl added another thought. "Hope them butterflies ain't gonna go causin' problems for all the farmers of these parts. Last thing we need is some sorta famine from losin' the last of the summer crops."

Suvaris responded. "A fair concern. However, it seems that most of those butterflies are likely to serve as a feast for other creatures."

In the fields off to the east of the road, a minor flurry of small birds illustrated exactly what Suvaris had been suggesting. It was likely that the birds would be gorging themselves upon the insects. He also understood that all that activity would be likely to attract other predators of a larger variety. Though the butterflies provided some measure of distraction, he reminded himself that it would be wise to maintain vigilance for that kind of trouble.

Suvaris again looked to the road ahead, recalling that portion of the journey from more than a week before. The road turned eastward not far out from Silgrad, then shifted in a generally south-easterly direction for some distance. It followed a path remaining only a relatively short distance from the western shores of the Inner Sea. "I'd say that we're unlikely to make it to Bodrum before dark."

Dravyn spoke up again from behind. "Not goin' to Bodrum."

Bradyn added to that. "Be turning the other way where the road splits."

"Headed for Ol' Ebonheart." Dravyn clarified his son's words.

Suvaris turned slightly, directing a slightly confused expression. "I'd thought that we'd be travelling to Mournhold by the southern route. I'd been advised by several to avoid the road by the Inner Sea. Especially, around Old Ebonheart."

Dravyn responded with a vague shake of his head. "Word's slow to spread, but all that's settled down a fair bit over the last coupla weeks."

Faryl explained further. "All that trouble was weeks an' weeks ago. There were some fresh eruptions of bad vapours, an' the like, out over parts of Scathing Bay. Makin' it all too way dangerous for shippin'. An' Ol' Ebonheart copped it real bad, as well. But like Dravyn says, it's all settled down a fair bit by now."

Suvaris' silent expression conveyed his measure of scepticism.

Dravyn responded first. "What we heard, place was pretty much cleared out for a good few weeks, but everyone's pretty much back there now."

Faryl continued with a shrug. "That's right. We seen it. Passed through Ol' Ebonheart just a coupla weeks back. Needed to wear special dust masks about town, but it's not so bad."

"Special dust masks?" Suvaris wondered exactly what was meant.

Faryl nodded in an animated fashion. "Yeah, that's part of why we're headed there, for Ol' Ebonheart. Got a few sacks fulla dust masks for the people there."

"Special dust masks." Dravyn emphasised the point.

Faryl nodded again, looking to Suvaris. "Yeah, special like. They been soaked in charcoal water and treated with special potions."

"I see." Suvaris returned a reserved nod. He thought that it sounded like something suitable for dealing with dust and ash, but he wasn't convinced of what level of protection might be offered against more toxic vapours."

Faryl resumed. "Won't be getting near there til tomorrow."

Dravyn chimed in again. "Oughta make Veranis Hall by midday or so."

"An' Omayni before nightfall." Faryl added to his brother's comment.

Suvaris nodded silently to himself. He'd passed by those lesser localities on his way northward, but paid little attention to either place. He'd actually forgotten the name of the village of Omayni. He hadn't been quite certain of the name of the other place either, since it had changed name at least twice that he recalled and was apparently again known as Veranis Hall.

Suvaris gave voice to a thought. "I don't recall seeing much at… Omayni."

"Ain't much there." Faryl shook his head. "They got a little tavern. S'posed to have a room for rent, but ain't likely much like ya might be useta. Ain't likely better than sleepin' out or worth the coin they might be askin'."

Suvaris returned a silent nod of understanding.

Faryl resumed. "A cousin of Bovis married a fella who runs a farm there. They grow a bit of saltrice an' wickwheat, an' some other stuff. They let us stay in their grain shed, when we're passin' by."

"I see." Suvaris had already lost track of the various family connections that the Rurvyn's had previously mentioned, but it seemed like they had relations in just about every place that they regularly passed through.

After young Bradyn again passed comment of his approval of the cooler conditions of that morning, the conversation fell away. Suvaris returned his attention to keeping a watchful eye upon the road and listening for other unseen threats that might be lurking nearby.

* * *

It had to be at least a good hour past midday by the time that they finally approached the small settlement of Veranis Hall. For the most part, the journey along the road had remained relatively trouble free, but not without its moments.

Stopping for a quick piss-break by the side of the road around mid-morning, there was an incident involving a large rat, the size of a small dog, emerging from the nearby bushes and fields of heather. It was the agitation of the guar that firstly alerted them to something.

Suvaris was quick to put the rodent down with his blade, before anyone else needed to become involved. Before resuming the journey, he made a point of dragging the bloodied carcass a short distance into the field to avoid attracting other predators too close to the road.

About an hour later, they'd encountered another pair of Dunmer traders travelling on foot to Silgrad Tower from the south. They carried their wares in heavy backpacks, instead of using a guar. Those traders also had an armed guard with them. From appearance and general behaviour, he looked to be hired for the task. The guard hardly looked as well armed or armoured as Suvaris, but he seemed reasonably up to the job.

After some brief comments were exchanged about all the white butterflies fluttering about, the two parties parted ways and then continued onward in opposing directions.

A little further along, a small pack of nix-hounds were spotted off in the distance, in the hills to the west. They appeared to be chasing something and headed further away. Since they seemed to keep heading in that general direction, they posed no immediate concern.

With the persistent southerly breeze of that morning continuing on into the afternoon, the day never really seemed nearly as warm as it had been on Sundas. That was certainly something to be grateful for. Even so, everyone was feeling quite ready for some rest by the time that they arrived outside Veranis Hall.

They didn't have any need to actually go into the settlement. They merely stopped in the shade of a convenient tree along the roadside just outside the place. Veranis Hall wasn't much to look at. It appeared as little more than a large manor belonging to a wealthy family, surrounded by a handful of farmhouses, with the nearby farms just beyond.

By the time that they finally paused for a break, no one seemed much in the mood for conversation. Once they'd all eaten, quenched their thirst, and briefly rested, they again resumed their southbound journey along the road.

* * *

The remainder of the afternoon proved to be blissfully uneventful as they travelled the southbound road. It easily seemed even quieter than the morning had been. They passed no one at all along the road. There were still quite a few butterflies fluttering about. As a result of that, they also observed a lot of birds, but not the kind that meant any sort of direct trouble. Though they'd again both heard and seen some creatures of the wild that represented potential threat, none had been near enough to raise cautious concern to any state of great alarm.

Though Suvaris wasn't perfectly clear upon where the line was currently drawn, he knew well enough that they'd left the Velothis region of Morrowind behind them and entered the north-western part of the Stonefalls region.

Even though the smouldering peak of Tormented Spire was still a fair way off, some of its periodic influence upon the landscape had become more evident. Compared to the greater activity of Red Mountain over the past decades, Tormented Spire had remained comparatively quiet. It still smouldered and bellowed some ash from time to time, but far less than that much larger mountain across the sea on Vvardenfell. As he understood it, Tormented Spire also dribbled some lava flows from its sides, but that also remained rather moderate in the general scheme of things. Some amount of lava periodically drained from the eastern slopes reaching near to the River Thir. A lesser amount sometimes came from the western slopes, flowing down into the rocky valleys and upper tributaries well to the east of Kragenmoor.

From the best of his recollection, there wouldn't really be much likelihood of encountering lava flows anywhere along the road between there and Old Ebonheart.

Nearing their immediate destination late in the afternoon, the road took them quite near to the south-western corner of the Inner Sea. If not for the prevailing southern wind, he might have expected to smell the salt on the air. He didn't really know whether to expect anything more dangerous that far from where the recent eruptions had been occurring. The others made no mention of it.

Though he wasn't at all certain of just how much Scathing Bay had recently affected some of the coastal regions, the land had generally been more fertile near to the sea. Even so, some areas between the coast and Tormented Spire had had always been somewhat barren.

Some of that was already in view. Looking off to the south toward the hills between Omayni and the smouldering mountain, the vegetation appeared rather more strained than what grew in the northern Velothis region or even much further south where the southern Stonefalls region met the Deshaan.

Just as they neared the village of Omayni, a momentary easing of the southern breeze allowed Suvaris to hear a strange noise that he'd not heard in many years. The sounds were coming from somewhere over the far side of the village, near where some of the village farmlands were not so far from the sea.

Though he couldn't actually see anything from the road, the echoes of the mournful howls of a herd of netch were unmistakable. Given that he'd rarely seen any wild netch roaming anywhere other than near the upper reaches of the Thir or down near the southern marshlands of the Deshaan, the likely conclusion seemed obvious enough.

Noting Suvaris' curious expression, Faryl spoke up to confirm. "A fella runs a herd of netch out the back of Omayni."

Suvaris returned a nod. "Yes, I expected as much."

He still held somewhat mixed feelings over the farming of netch. Of course, he was perfectly aware that it had been a practice of some long standing, going right back to when his ancestors first spread out across that land. Given that the flesh of those free-floating creatures was toxic and completely inedible, harvesting them just for the netch leather seemed a wasteful exercise. He also understood that Telvanni mages valued extracted netch jelly for its other alchemical properties, but that still seemed somewhat unnecessary to his thinking.

Out in the wild, the netch generally presented as one of the most harmless creatures of that land. They just floated about near certain waterways, grazing and drifting just above the land, buoyed by their internal gas sacs. Left alone, they generally caused no trouble. Only upon rare occasion, a raging bull-netch or a calving betty-netch might turn aggressive if unexpectedly provoked. The shock-charges and poisons from their dangling tentacles could be quite dangerous. Even so, that sort of thing remained fairly rare.

Suvaris was shaken from his passing thoughts as a loud screech from a circling falcon caught his attention. He turned about just in time to witness a second falcon swooping down toward a small copse of stringy pale birchwood just north of the farmlands. That falcon rose from the trees with a smaller bird in its grasp, possibly a little warbler of some sort. Another couple of little birds scrambled, more likely toward danger than safety. The other fluttering white wings about those trees provided a clear enough picture. Just as he'd been expecting, those butterflies were still drawing lesser creatures, which in turn were attracting larger predators.

Having reached the edge of the township, Faryl spoke again. "Well, here we are. We gotta go see Gils and Velsa. They're the third house back from the road."

Dravyn added an observation. "Looks like Velsa's home." He was making reference to the thin column of smoke rising from the flue on the roof of that house.

Bradyn chimed in with his most immediate thought. "Good thing. I'm bustin' for a piss and I'm starvin'."

Suvaris glanced to where the traders indicated, then looked ahead. "I think that I might go take a look at that tavern."

Faryl shrugged. "Suit yerself. Course yer welcome to come join us, if ya want. Velsa usually puts on an extra pot of stew for us, when we visit."

Suvaris returned a polite nod. "Of course. I'll certainly keep that in mind."

The three traders split off to head along the back of the houses of the village as Suvaris continued on toward the roadside tavern up ahead.

* * *

Alaron Suvaris emerged from the shabby tavern with a mild scowl and closed the timber door behind him. He paused a moment to swat away a white butterfly fluttering about his head. With a heavy sigh, he looked briefly to the rapidly fading sky, then turned and made his way back along the road.

His visit to that tavern proved both brief and disappointing. Though he'd not been expecting too much, 'rugged' seemed an overly generous description for the place. Added to that, after introducing himself to the barkeep, he was quickly informed that were no rooms available. He learned that another passing traveller had already acquired the only one in the place.

He'd only briefly considered eating there, then decided otherwise. Since he would be returning directly to meet up with the Rurvyn traders, he imagined that it might be thought impolite to reject the likely offer of a meal, while accepting the hospitality of shelter for the evening.

Approaching the back of the house that the Rurvyn's had indicated, Suvaris observed young Bradyn tending to the pack-guar by one of two larger sheds situated a short distance from the farmhouse. Dravyn's son had already unburdened the guar of their loads and was seeing to it that they were fed and watered.

The younger Dunmer looked up just as he was finishing with his tasks. "No luck at the tavern, then?"

"No." Even without speaking, Suvaris' grim expression said as much.

Bradyn anticipated the next most likely question. "Faryl an' me dad have gone in to see Gils and Velsa."

Before anything had been said, Suvaris had already assumed as much. Something else had just drawn his attention. There was a subtle, but notably distasteful odour coming from the nearby crop fields. The smouldering mounds spaced out along the southern edge of the fields appeared to be the source. With the light breeze still blowing, only one mound was really close enough to smell.

Bradyn screwed up his nose. "Yeah, that stinks a bit. Seems Gils's been burnin' dried dung. Reckons the butterflies don't like it an' it's 'sposed ta keep 'em away from the crops. It's just about burned out."

Suvaris shrugged mildly, offering no verbal comment. He hoped that the breeze would continue to blow in the same direction.

"You ain't eaten nuthin' yet?"

"No, not yet."

Bradyn pointed over toward the other structure. "That's the grain shed where we'll be settin' up for the night. If you wanna watch our stuff, I'll go let 'em know we'll be needin' an extra servin' of whatever Velsa's got for us."

Suvaris returned a polite nod. "Yes, that sounds perfectly fine."

He headed over to the grain shed as the lad made his way for the door at the back of the house. He then unburdened himself of his travelling pack, setting it down by the inside wall of the shed, out of direct view from the outside. He set down his helmet and gauntlets just next to his pack, then briefly considered the suitability of the location as a place to stay for the evening. If nothing else, it seemed better than camping in the wilderness.

Only a few moments passed before Bradyn returned from the house. He mentioned that the other two would still be a short while, but hopefully not too long. After the lad had pointed it out, since he had the time, Suvaris went off to make use of the outhouse by the side of the farmhouse.

As he returned, Suvaris noticed Bradyn setting up a small campfire placed well outside the front of the gain shed. It seemed obvious enough that it was more for the light it would cast than anything else. As the lad mentioned, it wasn't too smart to have a fire too close to the grain store, not even a lantern.

Though the sun was well below the Velothi Mountains, Secunda was already in the eastern sky. The crescent of the smaller moon was a little closer to its first quarter. Of course, it would be a while before Masser joined it in the evening sky.

With nothing else to attend, Bradyn selected four larger blocks of timber to serve as low stools and set them about the small campfire. Both of them sat down to wait.

Before long at all, Faryl and Dravyn emerged from the back of the farmhouse carrying the promised bowls of stew. Soon enough, they were all sitting about the low fire and eating. Though it seemed nothing out of the ordinary, the stew was good enough. Once everyone was done, it was young Bradyn's job to take the bowls back to the house.

Taking a sip from his water flask, Suvaris noted a few glowing torchbugs out over the open fields. It was fair to assume that the butterflies had set down for the evening. Though the winds had eased notably since sunset, the light breeze remained pleasant. Just momentarily, the mournful bellow of a netch echoed from the far side of the village.

With a mild yawn, Faryl passed comment. "Ain't gonna stay up too late. Plannin' ta set off early again in the mornin'."

"So, we should be in Old Ebonheart by tomorrow evening?" Suvaris was only seeking casual confirmation.

Dravyn responded first. "Provided there ain't no trouble between here and there, should be another easy run tomorrow."

Faryl added his piece. "Oughta pass by Balfalls some time in the afternoon."

"Then after that, we oughta make Ol' Ebonheart at least a good hour or two before dark." Dravyn completed that part.

Faryl resumed. "We'll be stayin' at the inn down by the west docks. Ain't the best place in town, but we gotta keep costs down. Course, you can do whatever ya want, long as yer ready to go when we head out."

Suvaris merely returned an agreeable expression with a silent nod. Bradyn had just returned from the farmhouse and quickly took to his makeshift seat again.

Dravyn spoke up again. "You ever make it over to Imperial Ebonheart? Back in the day, I mean, back before everythin' that happened on Vvardenfell?"

Suvaris shook his head. "No. I visited Vivec City just the once, very briefly. I did see the Imperial trading centre from a distance, but I'd never been there."

Faryl stifled another yawn. "I heard it said, that on a clear day, Vivec City useta be seen from the hills at Ol' Ebonheart. Course, all that was before my time."

Suvaris nodded. "Yes, on a clear day."

Bradyn had been quietly listening to the conversation, his gaze rarely shifting from Suvaris for long. He obviously had another question on his mind. Whether it arose from curiosity or suspicion wasn't so obvious. "Why'd you end up goin' to Cheydinhal?"

Suvaris hesitated with a mild sigh. "At first, I was merely escorting refugees fleeing Morrowind. After the Oblivion Crisis, Vivec City, and Red Mountain… for many, the invasion from the south was one disaster too many." He paused a moment. "Back then, the Dunmer Count of Cheydinhal, Count Indarys… well, he was somewhat more welcoming than some others. With so many of our people already there, it seemed a suitable place to start anew."

Bradyn pressed a little further. "So this was all right after them lizards killed your family?"

Suvaris looked away. "I didn't say that." He released a heavy sigh before saying anything else. "As I understand it, they weren't killed by Argonians, but they perished because of them nonetheless."

Bradyn's confused expression indicated he wasn't going to easily leave it alone.

Suvaris made it clear. "I won't speak of it any further."

Faryl yawned again. "I reckon it's starting to get to that time, if we wanna be up and about before the dawn."

Dravyn agreed with his brother. "Yeah, sounds about right."

Soon enough, everyone was looking to get settled in for the evening.

Suvaris discarded his armour, stripping down to his underclothes. Though he was tired, sleep did not come as quickly as he might have preferred. Despite the younger Dunmer's words provoking old memories, he tried not to think about the loss of his family all those years before. Instead, he turned his thoughts back toward that book that he'd been reading the previous evening. He hadn't got all that far into it. Just enough to gain the general idea of the story. It seemed to revolve about the activities of a motley crew of pirates sailing the seas of the Abecean aboard The Black Drake. The captain of the vessel was an Imperial man, pretending to be perpetually drunk, even when he wasn't. He was trying to remember the name of the pirate captain as he drifted off to sleep.

~O~


	10. Chapter 10

Winds of the Ashfall: An Elder Scrolls Tale

Greg J Miller

~O~

Chapter 10

Tirdas the 30th of Last Seed 4E71 Morning

Alaron Suvaris stirred once again in response to yet another noise interrupting his fitful sleep. At some point during the night, a noisy owl hooting somewhere off in the distance disturbed his slumber. Upon another occasion, it was the screeching sounds of bats somewhere near those trees over to the north of the crop fields. That last time it was the movement of one of the Rurvyn traders getting up.

Opening his eyes, the muted colours of the early morning light informed him that it really was most likely time to rise for the day. At his best guess, it was some time during the last hour before the dawn. A noisy crow started calling out from the small copse of birch beyond the crop fields, seemingly insistent that everybody should be up and about by that time of morning.

Though he wasn't feeling quite as well rested as he might have hoped, Suvaris resigned himself to the notion that it really was time to get up. He certainly didn't want to be the one holding up the morning's activities.

Suvaris took some water from his flask as he waited for Faryl to return from the outhouse by the side of house, then headed over to make use of it.

Returning to the grain shed, Suvaris noticed that the Rurvyn's farmer friend had already emerged from the farmhouse and was heading over to his fields. Apparently, Gils was anxious to go check that his crops hadn't been ravaged by insects.

As Bradyn busied himself with loading up the pack-guar, Suvaris dressed in his ebony armour and checked his weapons. Since he still had one more apple in his pack, he took it out to serve as a morning meal before heading off.

A short while passed as Dravyn and his son took turns to make use of the outhouse, then readied themselves and again checked over the guar to ensure they were ready for travel.

After Faryl and Dravyn had briefly spoken with Gils one last time, seemingly exchanging some farming advice, they were ready to be on their way. By that time, the sun was just starting to rise over the distant land to the east.

Leaving the village of Omayni behind, Suvaris briefly glanced to Faryl. "Did I hear discussion of growing tomatoes and carrots?"

Dravyn spoke up. "Faryl and me useta work the farm, when we was all younger."

The elder brother chimed in. "That was before we turned to the trader business."

Dravyn resumed. "Our older brother, Gralys, he still runs the farm with the family."

"That farm's back up in the north. A bit west of Cormaris." Faryl clarified the location.

Dravyn jumped back in. "Been tellin' Gils about the tomatoes and carrots back at the farm. Gralys tried 'em out over the summer. He heard it that growin' 'em side by side over the summer months was the best way."

Faryl continued. "Heard that the Imperials useta grow 'em, back when there was lots more of 'em livin' around here. Heard that tomatoes and carrots were sposeta do real well in warmer parts… an' we got plenty of that."

Dravyn resumed. "An' them crops did real well for Gralys. We're plannin' on gettin' the last harvest and gettin' it straight over to Windhelm. Figure them Nords will pay nicely for that kinda stuff."

"Be going over by the Dunmeth Pass, when that happens". Faryl added that part.

Though Suvaris had never travelled the northern pass into Skyrim, he understood that it was said to be an unfriendly journey during the colder months and that it could also be somewhat challenging even during other times of the year. He didn't doubt that the Windhelm markets would likely welcome the produce, since most goods of that kind probably needed to come north from the Riften region during the cooler months.

Bradyn suddenly called out in an alarmed tone. "Behind us."

As Suvaris and Faryl were turning their heads, Dravyn's tone of alarm reflected his son's call. "Off the road. Now. Get the guar off the side of the road."

Suvaris spotted the robed Dunmer running along the road in their direction, moving at a somewhat measured pace. A dark beard protruded from the front of his hood. It looked like his face was marked with either tattoos and painted markings. It was the long spear that he carried that raised some immediate alarm.

Faryl pressed a firm hand against Suvaris' armoured shoulder. "No weapons. Say nothin' and don't go lookin' him in the eye." He indicated the side of the road with a serious expression.

Maintaining a state of alarmed caution, Suvaris followed Faryl's lead, stepping off to the northern side of the road. He resisted drawing any weapons, but remained fully ready to act, should the need arise. Bradyn and Dravyn had already coaxed the guar off the roadside just a few paces behind them.

Drawing near, the stranger didn't seem to pay them much attention, barely passing a sideways glance. He merely maintained his steady pace, running straight past them and continuing eastward along the rough road.

Faryl waited a lengthy moment, until the robed Dunmer was well on his way and out of earshot. Some measure of anxiety remained in his voice. "Ashlander."

Suvaris had already assumed as much. Though he'd rarely seen many of those tribal warriors during his earlier days in the homeland, he knew enough to be able to recognise one.

Dravyn added his thoughts. "Probably a message runner, or the like."

Faryl agreed with his brother. "Probably. Best to just stay out their way."

"Might be headed for Mournhold." Bradyn made the suggestion.

"Might be. Not our problem. Not if it can be helped." Dravyn gestured to his son, encouraging him to get his pack-guar back onto the road.

Looking to Suvaris with a serious expression, Faryl resumed. "Probably a few more Ashlanders gettin' about since the old days, back when you was around. Since House Indoril got behind all that New Temple business happenin' over in Mournhold, them Ashlanders don't just stick to their tribal groups no more. Well, they still mostly stick to their own, but you'll see more of 'em out on the roads than back in the olden days."

Suvaris returned a thoughtful frown. "I see."

Faryl continued. "Still need ta be real careful around 'em. Even look at an Ashlander the wrong way an' ya might find yerself in trouble. Always best ta keep ya weapons outa view and just don't say nuthin'." He paused, shaking his head. "Course, them Ashlanders don't like foreigners one bit, but they pretty much see most of us regular Dunmer as n'wahs as well."

Suvaris only responded with a silent nod of acceptance.

The conversation quickly fell aside as proper attention turned toward watching the road ahead for any sign of trouble.

* * *

After that earlier moment of alarm on the road just outside of Omayni, the remainder of the morning passed fairly quietly. It seemed that no one else was out on that road on that day, or at the very least, not in the same place at the same time.

Though nothing much like those gusty winds of Sundas evening and most of Morndas, a light southerly breeze persisted throughout the first part of the day. A smattering of patchy cloud drifted high overhead in a generally north-westerly direction. It didn't look at all as if it carried the threat of rain. However, it did speak of rising moisture on the air coming up from the south. Though the day was not feeling nearly as hot as Sundas had been, it did seem just a little sweatier whenever the breeze eased.

As they travelled further eastward along the road, far fewer of those white butterflies could be seen fluttering about. By the time that midday drew near, there seemed to be none at all to be seen. It seemed most likely that the greater number of those butterflies had been swept up along the western parts of the land toward the Velothis region.

Though the day's journey began fairly near to the Inner Sea, the path of the road soon shifted further inland. Rocky outcrops of land turned the path away from the sea for some distance, seemingly headed in the general direction of Tormented Spire. Of course, the road again turned eastward long before nearing that smouldering mountain to the south. Along some short stretches, the road headed almost due north. Though it frequently twisted and turned, that road remained indirectly headed for the mouth of the River Thir.

Not so far out from Omayni, there were far fewer of those stringy pale birch trees growing, or any other clustering trees of a similar kind. About the rocky hillsides of that part of the Stonefalls region, only a few twisted and stunted mahogany and the occasional sickly oak managed to survive the more barren landscape. Some golden kanet and roobrush managed to grow near to the roadside, but none of the shrubs looked so healthy. Not even the larger mushrooms did so well, except where rocky outcrops provided some partial shade and shelter.

Traversing that bleaker landscape, there were notably far fewer birds to be seen or heard. Only upon rare occasion, a lone crow could be heard off in the distance or an occasional noisy gull somewhere to the north when the path neared the unseen sea.

After the brief alarm of that passing Ashlander, the only minor disturbance of the morning arose from spotting a couple of kwama foragers wriggling about amongst a little cluster of waist-height mushrooms growing along the southern side of the road. The agitation of the guar firstly alerted to their presence. Since they were easily avoided, the large wormlike creatures presented no immediate problem.

Faryl had casually mentioned that he was aware of a kwama egg mine located nearby, over the rocky hillside to the south. A little further along, he'd pointed out the trail that was meant to lead to where those kwama eggs were mined. He'd also mentioned the old sulphur pools located to the south of the egg mine.

Suvaris held some vague recollection of the place from many years before. He seemed to recall that there used to be a small mining village there, but he couldn't remember the name of the place.

A little further along, the winding path of the road turned northward for a bit. It again came quite close to the Inner Sea, but the barren and rocky hillside firmly separated water from road. It would have most likely required scaling the steep and rugged embankments to even catch a glimpse of the sea on the other side.

After only stopping briefly for the usual reasons a couple of times during the morning, Faryl called for a proper break about a half-hour past the mark of noon. It was still a good couple of hours out from the next small settlement along that road and they weren't even planning on going into that place.

Aside from the time of day, that location along the road seemed a good enough place to be stopping. The meagre shade of an outcrop of rock on the northern side provided a suitable place to pause for rest. At that time of day, it was only the shade about. Though the full width of the roadway between the two hillsides seemed no more than twenty paces across at the widest point, there was a reasonably clear view along the road in each direction for a fair distance.

Once Dravyn and Bradyn had coaxed the guar into the shade of the outcrop, they'd poured out some water into shallow dishes for the thirsty beasts. After each of the party had attended to immediate calls of nature, they settled into the shade to eat and drink, making the best of the opportunity for brief rest.

Given the scarcity of vegetation between the rocky hillsides bordering both sides of the road, the absence of wildlife about didn't necessarily seem quite so out of place. In that circumstance, it did seem a bit quiet right at that particular moment.

It didn't seem so out of place that there were no birds about that relatively barren location, especially at the peak of day's heat. It didn't even seem unusual that there might be no land creatures about. However, it might have been something worthy of note that the distant chirping and buzzing of insects had stopped altogether during their pause along the roadside.

Even so, neither Suvaris nor any of the others had immediately noticed just how unusually quiet it had become.

"B'vek." Dravyn's startled bark broke the silence.

Suvaris looked up to the sky just in time to see a cliff racer that had just glided by overhead and was turning about over the hillside across the road. Without considering his helmet and gauntlets sitting on the ground next his travelling pack, he quickly stood up and drew his ebony blades.

The flying reptile paused to hover above the far hillside as Dravyn also drew his blade and tried to stop the nearest guar from taking off. Bradyn nearly tripped over his own feet rushing to take hold of the second guar. At the same time, the younger Dunmer was fumbling to get a grip upon his bonemold bow.

Faryl hadn't yet looked to pulling his short-sword. As he fumbled inside his vest, he'd already dropped two scrolls onto the ground and he was shifting his attention between the hovering cliff racer and trying to see which scroll enchantment he'd manage to keep a hold of.

Keeping his back to the rocks, Suvaris stood his ground with both blades at the ready. He was waiting to see just what the cliff racer was going to do. It probably wasn't the largest one he'd ever seen, but it was certainly big enough. It had to be near to the full length of his own body across its leathery wingspan. The pointy array of teeth in its bird-like beak looked threatening enough, but he knew that the sharp spine at the end of its long tail was likely the greater threat. Though it had been years since he'd encountered one, even then only rarely, he vividly recalled just how dangerous they could be. He was also reminded to check his periphery to be sure that the cliff racer was on its own. From the ground, they often seemed silent until they were ready to strike and it wasn't unheard of for two or three to attack in a group.

Shifting position a few times, the cliff racer continued to hover near to the rocky hillside on the southern side of the road. Bradyn let loose with an arrow fired toward the creature. That first one didn't fly so close to the target. The second one didn't seem to be much better. The third shot flew closer, but the flying reptile wasn't presenting a stationary target for the missiles sailing by.

Dravyn sounded nervously angry. "Don't go wastin' all your arrows, if ya ain't gonna hit the s'wittin' thing."

His son looked irate, but didn't waste his breath in response. He instead concentrated upon looking for opportunity to loose an arrow that might actually strike home. Just as he'd decided to release another arrow, the creature shot forward with a little screech, pausing to hover above the middle of the road. Of course, the arrow missed once again.

Keeping his sword held out in front, Dravyn struggled with the panicked guar pressing up against the rock-face behind him.

The cliff racer had just come down low enough that it could possibly be within the reach of a blade, but that also meant that the reach of its tail-spike would be far more of a direct matter of concern.

Suvaris was just considering whether to shift toward taking a strike at the creature, but also hesitant of whether Bradyn had the sense to hold fire if he was moving into position.

Rather than Bradyn loosing another arrow on Suvaris' right, it was Faryl's unexpected action on his left that nearly took him by great surprise. Faryl had just decided that the cliff racer was near enough for unleashing the scroll he'd been handling. A spray of frosty particles rushed past Suvaris' left arm and clouded over the flying reptile. Suvaris knew a spell of a similar nature, but that hadn't been a priority in his mind.

The frost spell did seem to have reasonable effect. The cliff racer staggered a bit and dropped slightly lower, struggling with the rapid change in temperature. It was fair to think that those creatures didn't much like the cold at most times. The sudden blast of cold air on an otherwise warm day probably affected it a little more adversely than it might have during cooler weather.

Shifting his blades defensively, Suvaris tried to catch Bradyn's eye before he started firing off arrows again. "Hold off." He glanced sideways only very briefly to see that the younger Dunmer was paying attention.

Since it hadn't decided to fly away, Suvaris took an apprehensive step toward the hovering cliff racer. In his peripheral vision, he'd noted movement from both Faryl and Dravyn, but both seemed to be holding back, only providing additional distraction for the creature.

Suvaris knew that any successful blow to those leathery wings would likely put an end to the flier, but even if that brought it down, that wouldn't immediately diminish the threat from its bony spined tail. As if to emphasise his thoughts, the creature suddenly lashed out with its spiked tail. Suvaris dodged to the side, successfully evading the strike, if only barely. Though the beating wings continued to present as tempting targets, he didn't allow himself to be distracted.

Though coming without any obvious warning, but anticipated nonetheless, a second thrusting of the cliff racer's tail shot toward Suvaris. He'd deflected the spike with one blade and managed a well-placed blow with the second.

That caused the creature to screech in pain as it flailed and turned about mid-air. As it passed, Suvaris' strike had been even more effective than he'd hoped. He'd anticipated piercing the flesh of the tail. However, since the tail had been extended with such rigidity, his sharp blade had sliced right though, severing the spiked end completely, which dropped to the ground after falling away from a bloody stump.

Before Suvaris had opportunity to press his attacks any further, the cliff racer forcefully flapped its broad wings and made off for the far side of the road. Though it seemed immediately pointless, Bradyn fired off one more arrow, which missed the target. A moment later, the flying reptile was disappearing over the rocky hillside.

Dravyn grunted. "N'chow, that was a close one."

"Yeah, close one." Faryl echoed his brother's comment.

Suvaris glanced toward Faryl with an expression of approval. "That frost spell proved quite a good idea."

Faryl shrugged. "Was reachin' for a paralysin' spell, but I dropped the fetchin' thing in all the panic. If it worked right, figured on paralysin' bein' the best thing, so's we could get at it while it was down."

Suvaris returned a gracious nod. "Even so, that frost spell did the job. The cold slowed it down rather well, allowing for better opportunity."

Wiping the sweat from his brow, Dravyn spoke up again. "Yeah well, ya did a real good job with yer blades. Doubt I coulda done near as good."

"Me neither." Faryl released a little sigh. "Good thing you was with us."

"Yeah, you was like Saint Jiub." Dravyn let out a dry chuckle.

Suvaris inclined his head in subtle bow. "I should think that it was more of a group effort. I merely landed the final strike."

Bradyn said nothing, seemingly annoyed with himself for not managing to hit the cliff racer at all, not that it presented as any sort of easy target.

Suvaris quickly cast an eye about the visible skyline above, wary that another cliff racer might be somewhere in the immediate vicinity. As for that particular creature which attacked them, he imagined that its days would be numbered after the loss of its tail-spine, but that wasn't his concern. He would have preferred that it just flew off before such a serious wound was inflicted, but it brought all of it down upon itself.

After collecting his dropped scrolls and noticing Suvaris looking up to the skies, Faryl shared his similar concerns. "Yeah well, we best be watchin' out that one that was on its own."

Dravyn kicked the severed spike with his boot. "Ain't so unusual ta see a cliff racer stalkin' somethin' along the road in some places, but that one snuck right up on us."

"Sure did." Faryl agreed with his brother, then looked to Suvaris again. "Even seen one or two of 'em up north of Silgrad, just last year. But they didn't often come down low ta take on a group of folks like that. Lotsa other animals about there that are much easier pickin's."

Dravyn grunted again. "Ain't nuthin' else about here, but us."

"It was probably after the guar." Bradyn made the suggestion.

Suvaris nodded his accord. "That would make some sense."

The younger Dunmer returned a satisfied nod, then looked to collecting his arrows from where they fell down to the ground.

Suvaris glanced upward again. He was just thinking that there had to be a distinct shortage of easier prey in the immediate area for that creature to consider taking on a larger group like that. Since that assessment already seemed perfectly evident, he didn't feel the need to speak of it.

Dravyn also looked back up to the skies for a moment. "Reckon we oughta get ourselves outa here before we see any more of them things."

Faryl nodded to his brother. "Yeah, reckon so. Wanna be in Ebonheart before the day's done… an' wanna get there in one piece."

After each individual had addressed any thirst or otherwise attended to other matters, the pack-guar were readied and they were soon on their way along the road once again.

Though he kept his attention directed toward watching for danger, Suvaris' thoughts still drifted just a little as he assessed the balance of the current circumstances. In some fashion, fighting off wild creatures in defence of the traders was precisely what he'd agreed to, albeit without payment. Of course, travelling in a group provided for some measure of mutually improved safety. Suvaris knew that he might not have fared quite so well on his own against an aggressive cliff racer. Even between the three of them, the Rurvyn traders might not have done so well either. In any event, he was quietly hoping that the remainder of the afternoon would be rather less troublesome.

~O~


	11. Chapter 11

Winds of the Ashfall: An Elder Scrolls Tale

Greg J Miller

~O~

Chapter 11

Tirdas the 30th of Last Seed 4E71 Afternoon

Since that incident with the cliff racer just after midday, though tensions remained just a little elevated, the continuing journey along the eastbound road passed far more easily. Upon two occasions, Suvaris had spotted dark wings sailing high above the rocky slopes. Both times it had turned out to be only cliff darters, the much smaller cousins of those larger cliff racers. Those smaller more birdlike flying reptiles generally presented no tangible threat to anything larger than lesser-sized rodents and the like.

As he marched along the road, Suvaris found himself casually reminded of old tales, after Dravyn's earlier mentioning of Saint Jiub. As he understood it, nearly a hundred years before, just after the island of Vvardenfell had been opened up again for general settlement, the numbers of cliff racers across the island began to surge. It was said that they thrived far more upon Vvardenfell than across the mainland regions. Suvaris didn't really know whether those creatures had suddenly increased in number upon that island or whether there were just far more people settling there to notice them. In either case, the great number of cliff racers across parts of Vvardenfell had been said to be a great menace.

Unlike what Suvaris found to be more common across most parts of the mainland, it was said that the cliff racers of Vvardenfell routinely attacked people, almost as though they preferred that to hunting lesser creatures. For more than a decade, traders, travellers, temple workers and soldiers had fallen to encounters with cliff racers across the large island.

With the general scarcity of easy prey across many parts of the barren landscape of that isle, cliff racers were said to be commonly attacking in groups of three, four or even more, often jostling one another to get at their targets.

As for 'Saint Jiub', Suvaris had heard a number of possibly exaggerated tales of his activities. Around five years before the Oblivion Crisis, a Dunmer known only by the name of Jiub, had set out upon a personal mission of culling the cliff racers across the main isle of Vvardenfell. Some claimed that his actions were driven out of seeking penance for past crimes against innocent victims. Others suggested that he could never have even been guilty of what Imperial outlanders had previously imprisoned him for.

From what Suvaris had heard, Jiub had gone after the flying reptiles both on his own and sometimes with the rarefied assistance of others. According to what he'd heard, Jiub had been hunting the cliff racers riding upon a large silt strider at some point. Apparently he kept at it long enough that most of the cliff racers had been completely eradicated from Vvardenfell.

It was said that before the time of his disappearance, Lord Vivec had favoured Jiub for his efforts and made declaration of his sainthood. For a few short years, Jiub had been widely revered for his achievements. He'd been hailed across all of Morrowind and Suvaris recalled how they even held annual tributes back in Cheydinhal with the 'Saint Jiub's Fair'.

It was said that Jiub perished some time during the Oblivion Crisis. Some claimed that he died defending Morrowind from the Daedric invaders of Mehrunes Dagon's realm of Oblivion. Others said that he had been in Cyrodiil at that time, fighting side by side with the Hero of Kvatch. There were some that claimed that Jiub had actually survived the Oblivion Crisis, but had afterward withdrawn from public sight.

Suvaris wasn't completely convinced of everything that had been said of Saint Jiub, but he didn't really know what was fiction and what was true.

Though Suvaris might have been relatively confident of fending off just one cliff racer, he held no desire to test himself against several at the same time. There was something about dealing with those flying predators that he did not like at all. In any case, none of that was really of much further concern that day. He'd not needed to deal with any more than just the one that afternoon and that suited him perfectly fine.

The remainder of the afternoon's journey provided nothing much more than light breezes and perhaps just a little mindful caution to alleviate the danger of any boredom.

For some distance, the eastbound road continued to twist and turn through the rocky hillsides of the northern Stonefalls region. Eventually, the path started to straighten out a little just a few leagues short of the River Thir. Along that latter stretch, the road began to gently undulate across the barren landscape, rather than following such a torturous path though the rugged hills and outcrops.

Just before mid-afternoon, they passed by a taller rock formation rising up between the Stonefalls Road and the Inner Sea. The lesser side road veered off to the north toward the small settlement of Balfalls, situated not so far from the strange formations of stone and coral historically known as Vivec's Antlers.

Just as Faryl had mentioned earlier, they had no intention of actually going to Balfalls that day, but he did pass some comments about the settlement as they passed the road. He'd mentioned that he understood that there used to be a lot more Imperials living in that place decades ago, but the small settlement had been wiped out more than once.

Dravyn added that he thought that a couple of times it had been because of what came from previous eruptions out in the sea, but the Umbriel Crisis of about thirty years before was the worst of it. Without receiving any warning about the flying city bringing death and destruction in their direction, everyone living in Balfalls at the time had been consumed to join the march of unliving creatures.

Faryl understood that not long afterward, since there was no one alive there to challenge them, some local Dunmer farming and mining families laid claim to the settlement and made it their own.

Most of that was news to Suvaris. The last time he'd seen the place had been after the Oblivion Crisis, but before the destruction of Vivec City. Though that township still carried the Dunmer name for the Stonefalls region, he did recall that it had been home to quite a few Imperial families back then. He'd never had reason to pass through there during the time just after the destruction of Vvardenfell, but he'd thought that Balfalls survived in some fashion.

Just a little further along past Balfalls, the party passed by the southbound road before the river. Suvaris knew that road led to Andrethis. He'd been on the southern stretch of that road only a couple of weeks before. Just over half way down that road was where he'd turned off along that other side road that led to the ferry crossing.

In the distance ahead, Ash Mountain rose up above the surrounding landscape. A thin line of lava flow could be seen lazily running down the western slopes, draining off toward the shores of the sea, somewhere out of direct view. Of course, their immediate destination lay between the river and that smouldering mountain.

* * *

Before long, they were approaching the stone bridge crossing over the Thir. From the delta on the mouth of the river, the Inner Sea again came into clear view for the first time since the early morning. Despite the light southerly breeze, a taste of the salt air from the sea could be sensed. The vaguest whiff of sulphur served as some reminder of what the people of the nearby city must have endured over previous weeks.

"Hold up." Faryl called a halt just short of the stone bridge.

Dravyn seemed to know exactly what his brother was thinking. Before anything else was said, he'd already moved about to the side of the pack-guar he'd been leading and started rummaging though the load. After a few moments, he'd withdrawn some dust masks. He passed two of them to Faryl, keeping another two on hand. Obviously, one of them was meant for his son.

Faryl handed a mask to Suvaris. "Ya might be wantin' this. As a gift, o'course."

Suvaris bowed his head, graciously accepting the offer.

Faryl continued. "Dunno if we'll be needin' 'em, but we always meant to hang onto one each… just in case. Better safe, than sorry."

"Of course." Suvaris indicated his accord.

Continuing onward over the bridge, those taller structures of 'The Black City' came into clear view, rising from the northern part of the land immediately ahead. Old Ebonheart was effectively situated upon a fair sized island in the mouth of the River Thir.

The broadest river channel was the one they were crossing over. The lesser channel flowed along the southern part of the Ebonheart Isle and up around the eastern side. Two other bridges connected the island to the mainland. The other main bridge was over the eastern side. The lesser one was at the south.

Suvaris felt mildly comforted that most of the Black City still stood. The taller dark stone structures served as familiar sight. Though the stone of the buildings was dark, it seemed further blackened from the irregular ashfall. Even so, those rectangular towers capped with old Velothi styled spires seemed outwardly unchanged since the last time that he'd seen them. That part of Ebonheart had withstood since much earlier times. It had been there since long before the rise of the Septim Empire in Cyrodiil. Of course, he knew that some parts of that city had been torn down and replaced many times over the years, whether by choice or by necessity. Even so, the dark towers and fortifications continued to endure.

Suvaris glanced to Faryl. "Tell me, do you know of how Old Ebonheart fared during the ah… the Umbriel Crisis?"

Faryl shrugged. "Heard they got some warnin' about what was comin'. Some mages got word from other mages in the south. Ain't the first time that Ol' Ebonheart needed to be cleared out for some reason. A lot of folk escaped to the east, ahead what was comin'. Some didn't make it out safe, but a lot did."

Dravyn had been listening. "Some parts of the city got broken or burned when all that was happinin', but that was mostly only down by the docks an' maybe a few parts out the front."

Faryl resumed. "Most of the city was left standin'. What got busted, got built up again since back then. No matter what the world throws at us Dunmer, we always come back." His forced grin conveyed his optimistic viewpoint.

Bradyn directed a question. "Wasn't Cheydinhal right in the line of all that Umbriel stuff, back when it all happened?"

Suvaris glanced back with a grim nod. "Yes, yes it was. With sufficient warning and some assistance from the Imperial Legion, most of Cheydinhal was also evacuated ahead of Umbriel. Only a relatively small number perished and though the city itself endured some notable damage, it was relatively minor in the greater scheme of things."

Bradyn prompted further. "So, it ain't like that now?"

"No. The damaged structures of the city were repaired over time. However, some families never returned to Cheydinhal after the crisis had passed. A few relocated to Bruma or Chorrol, and to some to other places."

"So, everythin' else eventually got back to normal over there?"

"Yes, more or less." Suvaris' tone indicated that he wasn't really interested in elaborating further than that.

The brief discourse mostly fell away once they'd crossed over the bridge and stepped onto the island. It seemed that they'd arrived at Old Ebonheart with at least a good couple of hours of daylight remaining. Faryl seemed outwardly pleased about making such good time. He said as much, but otherwise left it at that.

Suvaris cast a casual eye over what came into immediate view across the southern portion of the Ebonheart Isle. Of course, that only included what was located outside of the old fortified stone wall, but there was still quite a bit to see there.

He noted the modest-sized tavern and the grouping of several small timber houses along the northern side of the road. Though some similar arrangement of structures used to be there several decades before, many of them looked to have only been built at some time after he'd last visited the Black City.

Across the southern side of the road, the lumber stores occupied the same general location as before. It was the same with the woodworker's workshop, though it was obviously a newer structure than what previous stood there.

Outside the sheltered portion of that warehouse near the lumberyard, he observed a large wagon with a heavy-set Nordic horse. He wondered if that meant that the lumber operations were still jointly run by Ebonheart Dunmer and localised Nords.

At first look, the weathered stone structure of that lesser trade-hub near where the three roads converged appeared outwardly much as before. He imagined that it had been there since long before he'd been born and might well be there long after he was gone. He could just make out some of the signs, indicating the smiths and armourers inside, along with some other merchants. That indicated that it still seemed to serve the same purpose as before.

Beyond that older structure, there were several more small timber houses along the road leading to the eastern bridge. Again, it seemed to be a mix of the old and the new.

Looking over toward the south-eastern part of the isle, he could see that the old Imperial barracks appeared to have been refurbished to serve a similar purpose. Some fully armoured Redoran guards moving about the front of the structure seemed to support that notion. He wondered whether that meant that House Redoran had fully taken over administration of Ebonheart or was merely providing soldiers for the region. Obviously, since House Hlaalu was long gone, some other house must have taken over that role.

Further east, he could see the towers of that large estate situated off in the distance across the channel to the east of the isle. It was too far off to see the current state of it. He casually wondered whether it was still in the hands of whichever Great House currently held administrative rule of the city.

Though he couldn't see anything of it from that location, he expected that the eastern farmlands, situated between the eastern bridge and the foothills of Ash Mountain were probably still utilised as before. There also used to be some smaller farms to the south near the old mines, but all of that remained well out of view from that position.

Nearing the metalworker's bazaar, Suvaris observed a couple of miners unloading a pushcart of ore and another couple of commoners were heading into the blacksmith's.

Looking about each of those he'd observed so far, Suvaris had noticed only a couple of people carrying dust masks of some sort and only one elderly individual actually wearing a mask. Added to that, with that southerly breeze still blowing, the air did seem fairly clear.

Suvaris looked to Faryl with casual curiosity. "Are you certain of the need for those dust masks that you're bringing to Ebonheart?"

Dravyn responded first. "We got a contracted buyer."

Faryl returned a confident expression. "Even if they don't really need 'em right at the moment, no tellin' when the next time they're gonna be needed."

Dravyn spoke again. "Same sorta thing happened twice about ten years back."

Faryl added to his brother's comment "Twice in the same year. "An' same thing about five years b'fore that."

Dravyn grunted. "We just gotta get the delivery down ta the warehouse an' get paid for it."

Passing through the entryway into the main city area, Suvaris looked ahead past the houses and manors along either side of the street toward the Ebonheart Plaza. The main marketplace appeared moderately active, with several customers wandering about the stores and open stalls of the bazaar.

Suvaris glanced to Faryl again. "I think that I'll go visit the marketplace. I'd like to replenish some of my travelling provisions."

Faryl returned a mild shrug. "Dunno how well stocked things'll be. Likely ta be a bit lean on lotsa things, with the ships not sailin' through here an' all that."

"I'm sure I'll find something adequate."

Faryl shrugged again. "Yeah, prob'ly. After we sort our business over at the trade warehouse, we'll be makin' our way for the big inn down by the docks. Ya can't miss it."

Suvaris returned an agreeable nod. "I'm sure I'll find it easily enough." He'd already decided that it would probably be easier to stay the evening at the same place as the Rurvyn traders, if he intended to travel with them again the next morning.

Faryl and the others veered off along the street to the left, headed for the western docks north of the city centre, as Suvaris ventured into the marketplace of Ebonheart Plaza.

Browsing the market stalls, Suvaris observed that the goods available seemed only in modest supply. It wasn't as though nothing at all was on offer. It was more the case that what was in supply was not necessarily to his preference. He was hoping to find some fresh fruits or the like, but there was nothing of the kind available. He'd ended up settling for some more dried meats and cheeses and some sort of saltrice biscuit. From his recollection, breads and biscuits made from saltrice were hardly appealing at all, but they did keep well.

Since he was in the marketplace, Suvaris did make a point of asking about whether anyone recognised the Suvaris name or had seen or heard of a Travlon Suvaris. He'd been mostly met with shrugs and blank looks. Just a couple of traders thought that they might've heard the name or something similar, but were not at all sure of it. Most of the people he'd encountered had been complete strangers, with the exception of one or two vaguely familiar faces. The elderly Dunmer selling baked products mentioned that he seemed to recall someone with the old Fighters Guild going by the name of Suvaris, from many years back, then finally realised that who he was speaking with, was the very same person.

Since he'd acquired what he was after and it didn't seem likely that he was going to have much luck with his inquiries, Suvaris decided to make his way for the western docks before running out of daylight.

* * *

Departing the marketplace of Ebonheart Plaza, Suvaris observed a male and female Ashlander leaning on their spears just outside the doors of the old Tribunal Temple. He silently reminded himself that it was probably known as the 'New Temple' after the reformations of the past decades. He wasn't exactly sure whether the Ashlanders were guarding the place, or waiting for someone inside, or else there for some other reason. He made a point of avoiding the urge to stare at them and just kept moving along toward his destination.

Heading downhill toward the area near the docks, Suvaris deftly sidestepped a huge pile of guar dung on the main path. That casually reminded him of why most of the major cities of Imperial Cyrodiil maintained strict policies of excluding horses and other beasts from the streets inside the fortified walls.

Though it might have seemed extreme, some of the cities didn't even allow pet dogs, cats or the like within their walls. That reminded him that he'd had more than one close encountered with dog-shit on the streets of Chorrol. There weren't a lot of dogs in that city, but just enough to remind of the need for caution along certain streets.

Of course, anything like that would have seemed a pointless exercise in places like Bravil. The dogs were of far less concern. With the stench rising from the sewers feeding into the channels of the Larsius delta, a little horse-shit on the streets might not have even been so quite so noticeable.

Even so, those other exclusion policies generally kept the streets of certain cities far cleaner than some other places. He was casually thinking that Old Ebonheart might have benefited from at least keeping the pack animals to the areas south of the old battlements of the main city districts.

Down the hill, Suvaris cast an eye over the dockside area. He noticed just the one middling sized vessel at port. That reinforced what he'd been hearing about the ships keeping away from the Scathing Bay region of the Inner Sea over recent weeks.

At first glance, he spotted just two timber warehouses and some other lesser structures down by the western Docks. He observed that aside from the stone docks, most of the dockside area seemed as though it had been completely replaced since the last time he'd been in Ebonheart. That also supported what the Rurvyn traders had mentioned.

Looking over to his right, Suvaris noted that there were some larger warehouses and newer houses over the northern end of the isle. Given that the area north of the Ebonheart Town Hall used to house the Argonian quarter of Old Ebonheart, he didn't feel at all surprised to learn that the space had been repurposed over past decades.

Suvaris was just trying to figure whether the inn was supposed to be one of the structures near to the docks or closer to those other warehouses over on his right. He then spotted two of the three Rurvyn's coming along the northern path and headed directly for the docks on his left.

"Suvaris." Faryl called out unnecessarily, waving his free hand.

Dravyn was also carrying a small bag. Evidently, their bags contained some personal possessions generally left attached to the pack-guar.

Dravyn spoke up once they were near. "Bradyn's gettin' the guar sorted at the livery sheds an' gettin' the rest of our stuff into the lockup. He'll be along in a bit."

Suvaris had already assumed something of a kind. He returned a silent nod of understanding.

"Ya get what ya was after at market?" Faryl's polite query sounded sincere.

"More or less."

With an unspoken gesture from Dravyn and a glance directed toward the sun falling low over the mountains in the distant west, they continued onward for the inn down by the docks.

~O~


	12. Chapter 12

Winds of the Ashfall: An Elder Scrolls Tale

Greg J Miller

~O~

Chapter 12

Tirdas the 30th of Last Seed 4E71 Evening

Though it wasn't yet quite going on dark, it soon would be, as the sun was just setting behind the light cloud hovering above the mountains on the western horizon. Making his way down by the western docks of Old Ebonheart with Faryl and Dravyn, Suvaris soon learned that one of the larger structures he'd taken for a warehouse was actually the inn that they had been talking about.

Just like the warehouse right next to it, aside from the main stone supports, most of the building was of timber construction. Though it featured some decorative Dunmeri styling, it really did look more like something that Nords or Imperials might have built. If it had been much older, he would have probably assumed that it had been constructed by Imperials, like most everything that used to be down at the docks several decades past.

Since Suvaris couldn't see any clear signage, he wondered whether that warehouse was directly connected to the East Empire Trading Company or else some other operator. Of course before the fall of Baar Dau, the local main office of the East Empire Trading Company had been across the sea at the Castle Ebonheart fortress near Vivec City. Even so, back then there'd still been a smaller office at Old Ebonheart. Though trade interests hardly seemed at all actively booming at that moment in time, he couldn't imagine the East Empire Company leaving it for others to control the future of local trade, such as it was. He kept those passing thoughts to himself, rather than asking about it.

An odd sort of buzzing noise caught Suvaris' attention as they approached the dockside inn. He spotted a lesser-sized giant wasp hovering out over the waters of the river. It was of those yellow-winged varieties, but only about the size of a large crow. He'd seen much larger ones before, but he knew they could be a threat at any size. Since it was following the shoreline around toward the south, it didn't present any direct danger. He hoped that it wasn't going to intrude upon any populated part of the isle.

"Don't see them things about here so often." Faryl passed the comment.

Dravyn grunted. "Not often, but sometimes."

Suvaris was still keeping an eye on the potentially dangerous creature. "They used to be more common in the southern regions, as I recall."

Dravyn resumed. "We get just about all kinds about the homeland. Big flyin' insects, flyin' rodents, flyin' lizards an' plain birds. Just about everythin' but them ancient dragons of them old stories." He paused to grin at his own comments.

Without saying anything, Suvaris passed him a curious expression. He thought it seemed an odd turn of phrase to come from anyone other than a Nord. To best of his understanding, the last of the ancient dragons were long gone. Though he'd occasionally heard some Nord acquaintances claim otherwise.

Faryl indicated the door to the inn. "We best be gettin' inside."

Just outside the entrance, Suvaris briefly noted the name of the inn, signed only in Dunmeris script. It roughly translated to 'Old West Port' in the Imperial tongue. He supposed that it was fair to say that the west port of Old Ebonheart was certainly quite old, even if that inn wasn't really quite so old at all.

Stepping through the front doors of the Ald'draduh Oad, the place immediately looked almost as spacious inside as it seemed from the outside. The large tavern area seemed to occupy a significant proportion of the ground level. It was fair to assume that it generally saw a lot of traders and sailors and the like, during much busier times. However given recent events, things were not looking quite so busy.

As both Faryl and Dravyn had paused momentarily just inside the doors, seemingly looking about to see if they recognised anyone in there, Suvaris also took a moment to quickly look about the place.

At that particular moment, with no shipping activity to keep the docks busy, the tavern seemed only moderately attended. At the most, the other patrons in view numbered just ten individuals, spread out through a space that could comfortably accommodate at least four times that number.

With only a few obvious exceptions, most of the people in the place were native Dunmer. Of course, none of them appeared to be Ashlanders.

A dark haired man of Imperial appearance sitting on his own by the southern wall clearly stood out as an outlander. As did the two broad-shouldered Nords, sporting full reddish coloured beards. The only other person of foreign appearance was the slender Bosmer lass behind the service counter next to the wiry male Dunmer with a dark wispy beard.

With very few windows to the outside world, the candles and oil lamps struggled to properly illuminate much of the tavern area. Except for just near the entrance, most of the outside walls were obscured behind the ground level rooms of the inn. It was fair to assume that those rooms must have been rather rudimentary, if the short spacing between the doors stood as any indication. It appeared somewhat likely that the staircase led to other lodgings located upstairs, but there was no visible indication of what those rooms might be like.

As the other pair started moving off, Suvaris followed, again looking across the tavern toward the service counter.

Faryl seemed to have anticipated something that Suvaris might've been thinking about earlier. "Did ya ask around at the plaza fer that lad yer lookin' for?"

Suvaris looked to him with slightly raised eyebrows. "Yes, yes I did. Though it didn't really seem to provoke any useful responses."

Faryl shrugged. "Mentioned the name over at the trade warehouse, but didn't seemta mean anythin' there either." He pointed toward the tavern's main counter. "Dranas runs the place here. Except for maybe lately, he usually sees lotsa folks comin' and goin'. He might have some idea, or else know someone who does."

Suvaris returned a mild shrug of his own, then inclined his head. "I expect that it cannot hurt at all to ask."

Nearing the service counter, Faryl addressed the Dunmer barkeep. "Dranas, good ta see ya again."

"Ah, the Rurvyn brothers… yer back in town again." The wiry Dunmer with receding dark hair tied back affected a crooked grin above his wispy beard. He didn't seem to pay much attention to Suvaris, just yet.

Faryl responded with a little smile. "Yeah, back in town. Bringin' in more of them special dust masks. Just like we said."

"Just dropped 'em off over at the warehouse." Dravyn added that part.

Dranas bobbed his head side to side. "Been not too bad around here the last few days, except some early mornin's, when a fog might bring in just a touch of bad vapours… but not nearly enough to worry about. Not like before."

Dravyn countered. "Still might be call for them special masks, if things go takin' a turn for the worse." He made a show of holding up the mask that he'd kept for himself.

Dranas tilted his head. "So long as the wind don't go changin' the wrong way at the wrong time, or there ain't no new eruptions out in the bay, reckon we mighta just about seen the end of it, for now. A'course, that could change, like ya say."

"Hopefully not so much that you need to go gettin' outa the city again." Faryl's expression reflected his sympathetic tone.

Dranas nodded his agreement. "Yeah, don't wanna have that again real soon. Still waitin' for the shippin' to get back to regular. That ain't so good." Shaking his head, he paused with a frown. "Ya have any troubles on yer travels?"

Faryl frowned lightly. "Not too much up north. Not til we got down near here. Got ambushed by a sneaky bastard cliff racer earlier today, bit west of Balfalls."

Dravyn weighed in. "Luckily, we had this Fighters Guild fella with us."

"Fighters Guild?" Dranas looked to Suvaris with a touch of suspicion.

Faryl responded first. "Not from over Mournhold way. He's from the proper one, from over in Cheydinhal."

With pursed lips, the barkeep raised his eyebrows. "Well then, I expect that cliff racer musta come off second best from that ambush?"

Faryl nodded slightly. "Yeah well, it got away, but not before serious injury. Not any of us, but the cliff racer… it lost the end of its spike tail in the dealin'."

Dravyn added his opinion. "Won't be doin' so good without it. Be one less cliff racer out there, soon enough."

Dranas grinned mildly through his wispy beard. "Heh, reckon that oughta make Saint Jiub happy, wherever his soul is restin'. One less cliff racer."

At that moment, a drunken wailing arose from a heavily inebriated Dunmer nursing a tankard by the far end of the bar. "Flyyyin'… flyyyin' in the skyyy… cliff racer flies so hiiigh… flyinnn…"

"Shut it." An angry Dunmer with a dark beard called out from just nearby.

"Yeah, shut yer face." Another male Dunmer added his voice, calling out from several tables away.

"Flyyyin'… flyyyin' in the skyyy…" The woeful noise continued as the drunkard seemingly remained oblivious to the angered calls from the other tavern patrons.

"You're askin' for it, ya bastard." The red-bearded Nord with the balding head was already out of his chair, slamming his tankard back down on the table.

The other bearded Nord with slightly more hair was also getting up.

Neither Faryl nor Dravyn had shifted from where they were standing by the front of the counter. Moderating his sense of alarm, Suvaris also remained where he stood.

With his mouth held slightly open, Dranas wore a look of pained concern, but had yet to speak or act. The Bosmer lass behind him had taken a nervous step backward.

"Cliff racer flies so hiiigh…"

"Somebody do something." An older male Dunmer complained loudly.

"Just leave it alone." His younger female companion sounded calmer.

"Flyyyin'… flyyyin' in the skyyy."

The drunk's next words were abruptly cut off by an open backhander to the mouth and his almost empty tankard bounced across the floor. A coiled fist hovered midair as the bald Nord allowed the threat to hold momentarily. His other hand was gripping the drunk firmly by the shoulder. The second Nord was ready to deliver his own affirmation, if the message wasn't being clearly received.

"N'chow. Hoy, you two. Not in here." Dranas sounded firm.

The Nord with hair grumbled. "Ain't on us. He's askin' for it."

"Yeah, askin' real loud." The bald Nord was still holding back, but not yet letting go.

Suvaris wondered if things were about to escalate further.

Dranas remained firm. "Ya get 'im outa here… an' the next drinks are free."

"Free drinks, for both of us?" Wearing a surprisingly earnest expression, the Nord with the hair sought clear confirmation.

"Yeah, the both of ya." Dranas continued to glare at the pair of them.

The two Nords quickly grabbed hold of the drunk by either side, lifting his feet up off the floor and then started carrying him straight toward the front door. The drunkard was in no state to offer any measure of resistance.

A moment after the door swung closed behind them, it opened again and Bradyn stepped though. After pausing to look about, he headed directly for the service counter where the rest of his party was still standing and looking over in his direction.

Bradyn wore a slightly confused and concerned expression. "Some fella gettin' beat up, just outside. A coupla big Nords layin' into 'im."

Dravyn responded gruffly. "Was wailin' that s'witttin' cliff racer song."

With his mouth half-open, Bradyn nodded his understanding. Even though children running about the streets and playing the 'cliff racer game' might be tolerated, singing that song in a place like that was a good way to start a tavern brawl.

Suvaris looked back toward the door with an expression of apprehensive concern.

Dranas spoke up again. "They'll have the sense not to go killin' 'im, but Ervis is gonna be all bruised an' sore when he wakes up. Dunno if he'll learn anythin' from it."

Suvaris returned a tenuous nod of acceptance. Though he found it rather distasteful, he thought it better not to interfere in the matter.

Dranas resumed. "Now, where was we? Rurvyn's said you was one of them proper Fighters Guild, outa the Empire?"

Suvaris returned a respectful nod. "Yes, that's right. Alaron Suvaris of the Cheydinhal Fighters Guild."

"You from Cheydinhal?" Dranas narrowed his eyes.

"Not originally. I was born and raised not far from Kragenmoor. However, I have been away from the homeland for quite some time."

Dranas' vaguely distrustful expression might have been a response to hearing what sounded like an outlander's accent to his ear.

Suvaris felt prompted to elaborate. "I had been with the Kragenmoor Fighters Guild of old, back in the day. After helping many of our fellow Dunmer travel to Cheydinhal some years ago, I had ended up remaining there. As you might have heard, a great many of our people occupy that city… and through the Fighters Guild of Cheydinhal, I've had opportunity to serve their well-being."

Dranas appeared more tenuously swayed, than openly impressed. "Fair 'nuff." He paused for a moment, possibly taking note of Suvaris' expensive looking armour. "This lot paying ya? Like a guard or such?"

Suvaris maintained a reserved expression. "Not as such. A travelling arrangement."

Faryl nodded his head. "Safety in numbers an' all that."

Dranas nodded his agreement. "Seems like that's the case. So, then… I expect you'll all be lookin' to food an' lodging at this fine place?"

Faryl affected an agreeable grin. "Wouldn't be stayin' anywhere else. Only gonna be in town overnight. Headin' off for Mournhold with the dawn."

"You'll just be wantin' them real ordinary rooms, I take it? Like last time?" Dranas waved his hand in the direction of the row of doors along the north wall.

"Just fine fer our needs." Faryl maintained his agreeable expression.

Dranas looked to Suvaris with a curious frown, again possibly swayed by the appearance of his more expensive attire. "What kinda rooms do Fighters Guild types need?"

"Do you have any… more comfortable rooms on offer?"

"Got some good ones upstairs, if ya got the coin for it."

They briefly negotiated over quality and cost of accommodation. Suvaris wasn't at all concerned over paying more than the Rurvyn traders. He only preferred the possibility of the comfort offered by a room that wasn't just slightly wider than a narrow bunk, like those ones on the ground level seemed to be.

They were briefly interrupted by the return of the two brutish Nords. Dranas prompted the Wood-elf barmaid to provide them with their promised free drinks.

After Suvaris and the Rurvyns had organised meals and drink from what was on offer at the tavern, Faryl acted as intermediator with regard to Suvaris' search for a possible family member. Suvaris clarified with the detail of a trader who'd come from Mournhold, speaking of a younger Dunmer going by the name Travlon Suvaris.

Dranas made a show of giving it some serious thought. "Reckon we do get a few Travlons through here from time't'time. Name's common 'nuff. But Suvaris… that ain't common at all. Can think of a Selarys, Seralas… and a Sarvani… but I reckon yer the only Suvaris I've come across, s'far as I can think of. A'course if I do hear anythin'… well, I can pass word ta these fellas."

"Most kind." Suvaris inclined his head in gracious acceptance.

With a short wait to pass before meals were prepared, Suvaris went off and found one of the bathrooms to go attend to pressing matters and also clean up a bit after the long day's activities along the road. It seemed that each of the Rurvyn traders passed less time upon such matters. Two out of three had already returned by the time Suvaris was back. Young Bradyn just got back as the rest of them were carrying the meals to the table.

Any interest in conversation about the table immediately fell aside in preference to eating. That remained the case until each of them was done. Faryl had just started to mention the intentions for the next morning, when they were interrupted.

That relatively younger Dunmer woman who had previously been eating with an older Dunmer came over by their table. It seemed that her companion had departed the tavern. It became immediately obvious what she was after, or perhaps more the case, what she was willing to offer for what she was after.

Dravyn seemed to recognise her from previous encounters and appeared outwardly annoyed. Rather harshly, he told her that nothing had changed since the last time and that she wouldn't be seeing any coin from any of them.

With his more affluent appearance, it was actually Suvaris who seemed to draw her marked interest. Far more kindly than Dravyn, he politely declined her invitation.

Returning to point, Faryl again spoke of plans for the next morning. He advised that if Suvaris hadn't come downstairs by the time they were getting ready to head out, he would go knock on the door upstairs. Suvaris remained agreeable.

* * *

Leaving the Rurvyns in the tavern, Suvaris headed on upstairs to the room he'd rented for the evening. The directions were clear enough, so he had no trouble finding it. The key in the door's lock confirmed that.

An oil lamp inside had already been lit for him. He was pleasantly surprised to learn that the room was notably better than he'd been expecting. Of course, he'd previously stayed in establishments of the Imperial City that were easily more well-appointed, but that upstairs room at the Ald'draduh Oad was at least the equal of what he'd found in Blacklight, if not just a little better.

The room occupied the north-eastern corner on the upper level, allowing for paned windows facing in two directions. A layer of soot coated the outside of the windowpanes, but that was to be reasonably expected in that part of Stonefalls.

Though it remained superfluous at that time of year, there was a small iron brazier set close to the corner stonework and sitting upon thick slate tiling. A well-crafted copper hood was set over the brazier, with piped flue to draw smoke away through the upper northern wall.

A few serviceable floor mats lined the floors, including at either side of the medium to large sized bed set just to one side of the centre of the room.

A lockup chest was positioned to one side of other cupboards. A small table with two chairs was situated just by the northern window.

Some other amenities were a little unexpected. He was slightly surprised by the small washbasin and mirror set upon a side-table, and perhaps more so by how the chamber pot was set into an alcove to keep it more secluded.

After setting down his travelling pack, Suvaris pulled off his boots then removed the rest of his armour, stripping down to his underclothing.

Not yet intending to even consider trying to sleep so early in the evening, he took a moment to light the other oil lamps in the room, as well as the candles on the table by the northern window.

Rubbing the bristles starting to grow from the past few days since he'd last shaved, Suvaris decided to do something about it before it became more annoying. The convenient washbasin and mirror served to persuade him. After finding his razor in his travelling pack, he set to the task.

After cleaning his razor and packing it away again, he rummaged through his pack to find that book he'd started reading the other evening. Just as he was settling into the chair at the table, he'd noticed that both moons were visible through the east facing window. Masser was only just rising, looking a little bit less full than the previous evening. Secunda was already well above the horizon and appearing at first quarter.

Positioning the book to catch the best candlelight, he opened 'Pirates of the Abecean' to the page he'd marked and tried to find exactly where he'd read up to.

Though it seemed to Suvaris that the logic of what was unfolding in the story appeared elusive, he still found himself entertained by what he was reading. More than once, he realised he was chuckling to himself at the antics of the captain of The Black Drake and certain members of his crew. He still couldn't quite recall whether the story had previously explained the relevance of vaguely referenced events upon the islands of Stirk, Stros M'kai and Caspar. He assumed that it would all become clear, if he just kept reading. He also still wasn't quite sure of why they were going after a rival pirate vessel said to be lurking by the one of the smaller islands of The Chain. Again, he chose to just accept the odd flow of the story and read on.

It was still relatively early when he decided to set the book aside, perhaps no later than nine. He understood that he needed to be up before the dawn and he might easily become more entangled in reading that story and lose all track of the passage of time.

After making use of the chamber pot and putting out all the lights, Suvaris clambered into the bed, finding it somewhat more comfortable than he'd expected. Before closing his eyes, he took note of the relative position of the eastern facing window. He reminded himself of the intent to rise before the dawn, then fell asleep almost immediately.

~O~


	13. Chapter 13

Winds of the Ashfall: An Elder Scrolls Tale

Greg J Miller

~O~

Chapter 13

Middas the 31st of Last Seed 4E71 Morning

After pushing himself as hard as he possibly could, Alaron Suvaris still arrived far too late. He screamed his useless protest across the burning canyon below. His throat already painfully raw from running so hard to reach that place and yet still failing to arrive in time.

Crazed by the hist-induced rage, the rampaging hordes of bloodthirsty Argonians roared back at him from across the far side of the gorge. The raging reptiles continued beating weapons against their shields in time with the war drums.

There was nothing he could do but watch on helplessly as the fleshed burned and peeled away from the bodies of his wife and children down in the gorge below. As his brother and his wife struggled to hold their son up above the conflagration, they seemed to momentarily stare back at him with harsh glares of accusation from their dead eyes, before the flames also took them all.

In unison, the raging Argonian horde seemed to bellow in gloried triumph.

The smoking lava flared up just one last time, before leaving nothing more than a low oily fire upon the simmering surface, followed by light ashes cast upon the wind.

Even trapped within the persistent spell of his sub-conscious imaginings, Suvaris knew in his mind that none of it could have happened quite like that. In fact, he was quite certain that it could have been nothing at all like that. Even so, he seemed unable to break the spell, as the infernal heat from the gorge below assaulted his senses and the beating of the Argonian war drums continued to pound. The noise of the drums seemed to penetrate both his body and his soul.

With a sudden start, Suvaris jolted to wakefulness and sat up. He quickly realised that someone was persistently knocking at the door to his rented room.

"Suvaris? Suvaris, you awake?" It was the voice of Faryl Rurvyn calling out to him.

Suvaris cleared his throat. "Yes… Yes, I'm awake. Be there… be there shortly."

"Righto, then. Shortly." Faryl seemed mildly satisfied with the response, evidently leaving the door and going back downstairs to the tavern of the Ald'draduh Oad.

Suvaris rose in a hurried fashion. He firstly reached for his water flask to quench his thirst, then made his way for the chamber pot to deal with next most urgent matter.

After that, he paused by the water basin set upon the side table. He took a moment to wash his face, clearing his eyes and wiping away the sweatiness from his brow.

By the dim morning light, he briefly caught sight of the image in the old mirror. His blood red Dunmer eyes gazed back with weariness. Despite having had enough sleep, his countenance appeared rather more haggard than he expected. He splashed some more water over his face, then set to getting dressed and prepared to join the Rurvyn traders downstairs.

Pulling on his boots, Suvaris released a heavy sigh. To the best of his recollection, decades had passed since he'd experienced any nightmares of that nature. He reasonably expected that it had been brought on from his current activities. Visiting some of those once familiar parts of the homeland had most likely stirred up those imaginings that he'd previously managed to keep well buried beneath the weight of the passage of time.

Suvaris silently reminded himself that what did actually transpire all those years before was easily terrible enough, without having his sleeping mind dreaming up even more terrible horrors. Even so, though he might well remain the master of his waking mind, he seemingly held less influence over what his dreaming mind might conjure. He could only try to concern himself with the substance of the present and continue onward.

Though he wasn't yet feeling particularly hungry, he kept a saltrice biscuit on hand, then replaced the last of the loose objects into his travelling pack and tied off the straps.

He briefly glanced outside through the northern window as he hoisted the pack onto his back. In the twilight, a misty haze obstructed the view over the water to the north. He could only just barely make out the shadow of the small isle situated off to the north of Old Ebonheart.

Already feeling that he'd taken far too long to ready himself, Suvaris made an effort to hurry downstairs.

* * *

Descending the timber stairs, Suvaris found that the tavern area of the inn was quiet and empty. Neither Dranas nor the Bosmer barmaid was about. Since Faryl wasn't there either, he hoped that he'd find him waiting outside.

Suvaris left the key to his rented room upon the service counter next to the other keys that he assumed had been left by the Rurvyns and then hastened for the front door.

Stepping outside, he immediately spotted Faryl leaning by the side of the building. He was looking out at the light mist on the water with a dust mask in hand. Since he wasn't carrying that shoulder bag, it was fair to assume that his brother had taken it to pack onto the guar.

Suvaris cast an eye out over the waters where the mouth of the Thir merged with the bay, noting only a subtle whiff of something unpleasant on the air.

Faryl spoke up. "Yeah, seems Dranas was right. Can barely smell it. Maybe, just a touch of the bad vapours in the mist. Not too bad. Just enuff ta remind of what's out there."

"I do hope I haven't caused unsatisfactory delay." Suvaris' mildly questioning expression prompted Faryl to speak again.

"Nah, still on time, more or less. Dravyn an' Bradyn are gettin' the guar loaded an' movin'. Gonna meet up with 'em out the front of the city, if we don't meet 'em along the way."

Suvaris returned a silent nod of agreement and they both fell into step, headed uphill for the centre of town. He quietly munched on the bland saltrice biscuit as he walked. Given that he hadn't yet spotted the other two, he assumed that they were most likely already well ahead of them. That inspired him to move just a little more quickly, challenging Faryl to keep pace.

The previous evening, Faryl had advised of intent to travel directly to Mournhold without stopping at any location along the way. At the end of the summer, they could possibly count on about thirteen and a half hours between sunrise and sunset. With fair weather, that meant about fourteen hours or so of light at best. From Suvaris' best recollection, that journey would likely take all of that time, provided nothing caused any notable delay. After sundown, there would be only some poor moonlight from a partially brightened Secunda, since the waning Masser wouldn't even be up until a bit later. Each of those factors served to hasten his step.

Suvaris and Faryl quickly passed through the mostly empty streets about Ebonheart Plaza. A Redoran guard sitting upon a bench up against a wall appeared to be snoozing. He probably thought that nobody could tell with that heavy helmet covering his face, but his posture easily gave him away. The only other person out on the street that early was someone emerging from the bakery with a basket in her hands.

Soon enough, they were briskly passing through the stone archway of the fortified wall separating the main city centre from the comparatively open area out on the southern side of the Ebonheart Isle. Looking about, Suvaris still could not see where Dravyn and Bradyn might be. Faryl passed no comment, merely doing his best to match stride.

They were soon about to pass by the old metalworker's bazaar. It appeared that no one else was yet about that place so early in the day. That circumstance didn't really seem so surprising at all.

Off to his right, Suvaris noticed a pair of traders with a heavily loaded guar and an armoured guard marching outward past the lumber stores. They were obviously headed for the western bridge, where his travelling party had come from just the day before.

Looking in the opposite direction, along the row of timber houses lining the road to the east, he still caught no sight of the other two Rurvyns with the guar.

Suvaris turned about to look to Faryl, then suddenly halted, causing the other Dunmer to almost run into him.

Suvaris' odd expression and intense gaze directed back toward the fortified wall prompted Faryl to turn and look. "Righto, there they are. Looks we got ahead of 'em."

Dravyn and Bradyn appeared to be trying to persuade the pack-guar to move along more quickly. The beasts didn't seem quite as heavily loaded as the previous day, but they seemed just slightly less cooperative than they'd been over the past few days.

Faryl silently waited until the others had finally caught up. He looked like he was about to say something, but Dravyn spoke up first.

"Got held up by these s'wittin' idiots." Dravyn was obvious talking about the guar.

Bradyn offered his opinion. "Think there might be a female in season. Back at the livery. These two been kickin' up a big stink about headin' out this mornin'."

Dravyn grumbled. "Always said we shoulda got a couple females instead. Or least, looked ta gettin' these two properly looked at."

Faryl didn't offer any argument nor add any fuel to his brother's opinion. "Need ta get ourselves movin' out. Long day ahead of us."

Though Dravyn grumbled to himself, nothing else was said. They all headed off down the road toward the eastern bridge of the Ebonheart Isle as fast as the misbehaving guar would follow. Up ahead, a pair of male Dunmer emerged from one of the timber houses near to the road, then headed eastward at a hurried pace. From the way that they were dressed, they looked like they were most likely farm workers.

Soon enough, Suvaris and the traders were approaching the crossing over the eastern channel of the river delta. Those other two Dunmer had already passed that way, crossed over the bridge and were still moving quickly toward their intended destination.

At the far end of the bridge, a pair of armoured Redoran soldiers leaned against the stone wall at the side. With their faces fully covered by those enclosed helms, it was hard to tell that they were watching until they shifted position and fully turned.

One of them clearly took interest as they approached, stepping away from the stone wall and onto the main path. He obviously meant to obstruct clear passage. "Yer them traders from up north Blacklight way, ain't ya? Sera… Rurvum?" His voice provided an indication of some relative youth.

Faryl maintained an earnest expression and tone. "Rurvyn, sera. Rurvyn Traders. We just been deliverin' fresh dust masks to the trader's warehouse of Ol' Ebonheart."

"Special dust masks, for the bad vapours." Dravyn held up the mask that he still had hanging from his belt.

The soldier nodded with his bonemold helmet. "Any luck, folks won't be needing that."

"That could change at any moment." Faryl tried to make it sound more like a helpful suggestion, than anything more ominous. He patted the mask that he'd also hung upon his belt.

The soldier nodded again. "Could do, could do… but hope it don't."

Faryl returned an agreeable grin. "Better to be prepared, just in case."

"Can't argue with that."

Stepping over to stand next to the first one, the second Redoran guard spoke up, sounding somewhat older than his comrade. "Where you lot headed then?"

Faryl responded in his generally congenial manner. "On our way down to Mournhold. We got goods to deliver, goods to pick up. Usual sorta thing."

At first, the older guard seemed to be looking to the pack-guar, but then it became more obvious that he was actually looking directly at Suvaris. "Ain't seen you travellin' this way with a guard before. Who's this fella with ya then?"

Faryl kept up his earnest demeanour. "Just a traveller from Cheydinhal, on his way to Mournhold. Travellin' together for safety like. Don't hurt none that he's pretty handy with lookin' out for troubles."

Suvaris recognised some casual measure of tension in the guard's posture. He immediately sought to alleviate any sense of apprehension. "Ju'rohn, sera. Alaron Suvaris of the Cheydinhal Fighters Guild."

The younger soldier on the right appeared to look to the older one as though he seemed somewhat uncertain.

The older Redoran guard spoke again. "Ya ain't nothin' ta do with them lot over in Mournhold then?"

Understanding the inference, Suvaris shook his head. "No, I've not had any dealings with them before. I'm actually looking for a younger Dunmer going by the name of Travlon Suvaris, said to be in Mournhold recently."

"Relative of yers?"

"That remains to be seen. That's why I'm headed there."

"Yer from Cheydinhal, ya say?"

"Yes, for the past few decades. Originally hailing from the Kragenmoor area, before all the troubles. I now serve to protect our fellow Dunmer living in Cheydinhal."

The older soldier seemed to pause on a thought for a moment. "Back when I first joined the guard… think I hearda some fella called Suvaris… with the old Fighters Guild. Back when we had that sorta thing in these parts. Think there useta be another fella called Vedran, who they say went over to Cheydinhal. Course, that was years back."

Suvaris returned a respectful nod. "Yes well, I am that Suvaris and Drals Vedran currently serves as Guild Head of Cheydinhal's Fighters Guild."

Only from his posture, the older guard appeared to find some measure of approval in hearing that response. After another short pause, he nodded. "Well then, I s'pose ya best be gettin' a move on, if ya plannin' on makin' yer next stop in good time. Azura be with ya."

"An' Azura be with ya, as well." Faryl returned a friendly nod.

The older soldier gestured to the other one, encouraging him to step aside and make room for the travellers to pass and then they were once again on their way.

* * *

East of the Ebonheart Isle, Ash Mountain loomed large. Of course, Suvaris knew that Vvardenfell's Red Mountain had to be much larger, but he'd never passed so close to that other angry mountain and he truly felt no desire to do so.

For the most part, Ash Mountain seemed content to quietly grumble; offering only reserved outbursts from time to time. At that particular moment, it wasn't even billowing any clouds of ash. Of course, that could change easily enough, without any notable warning. Even so, it was only very rarely such a violent affair. Nothing at all like Red Mountain.

A couple of relatively minor rivulets of molten lava dribbled down the western slopes of Ash Mountain. The features about either side of the narrow streams indicated earlier and more virulent flows. Though the lava seemed to reach for the waters east of Old Ebonheart, from the road it could not be seen whether the lava actually managed to get quite that far.

To the north of the eastbound road, the stone towers of that ancient estate could still be seen. However, the rise of the hillside between the road and that location soon came to obscure any clear view. Before that view became fully obstructed, Suvaris had noticed some farm workers about the front area of that estate. That provided some fair indication that someone must have been making use of that place in a productive manner.

Just a little further along the road, the eastern farmlands of Ebonheart came into clear view. There were only a few crop fields to the left of the road. The fields on the right seemed more substantial, occupying a significant portion of the area between that road and the stony hills to the south.

Other than those cultivated farmlands, the landscape remained fairly barren, as was typical of that part of the Stonefalls region. There were few larger trees to be seen. Aside from just a few shabby looking mushroom clusters, growing no taller than waist height, only patches of wild kreshweed and roobush grew here and there.

An old lava flow ran along the back of those farmlands to the left of the road. The most recent flow had long since cooled and hardened, but it marked the line of sorts between the farmlands and the rise of the rocky hills up to the larger mountain above them.

From there the road gently veered southward, following a path parallel to that old lava track to the east. Along that stretch, a lesser road turned off to the west. The signpost indicated that a mine was located in that direction.

Though the morning warmed quickly, it hardly seemed anything nearly as hot as that first day they'd departed Blacklight in the north. The patchy cloud cover slowly drifting overhead might have played some part. Even so, it just seemed as though the sun had not been beating down quite so harshly. The light breeze periodically blowing from the south probably also played some part in it. It wasn't at all like the gusty winds of two days before, but easily enough to keep things feeling somewhat cooler as they marched along.

Since they remained primarily focussed upon maintaining a steady pace along the road, any thoughts of casual conversation seemed fairly restrained. The further that they travelled away from Old Ebonheart, the better behaved that the pack-guar became.

Nobody even called for a piss-break until they'd almost reached the fork beyond where the road turned south, then eastward once again and then joined up with that other road that came around from the southern side of Old Ebonheart via the lesser southern farmlands.

After that fork, the road turned north-east for some distance, seemingly headed in the wrong direction. A few lesser roads and tracks veered off from the main road into the hills below Ash Mountain. Though he'd never had reason to go near them, Suvaris was vaguely aware of some old ruins and the like among those hills in the shadow of the mountain.

A little further along, they were passing by another road leading away to the ancient Othrenis necropolis. It occurred to Suvaris that he'd originally expected to be passing that way nearly three weeks before. However, twice encountering travellers in need and then ending up in Blacklight had significantly diverted that intent.

Further along past the Othrenis turn-off, the eastbound road would eventually drift even further north, passing through a small township, and then eventually reaching the Darnim Watch township located further east along the southern coastline of the Inner Sea.

Of course, they'd be turning off in another direction well before any of that, at the next major split where the southbound road headed through a pass in the rugged hills on its way down to Mournhold.

After leaving the vicinity of those farmlands to the immediate east of Old Ebonheart, they'd not encountered anybody at all along the road that morning. Some dried guar-shit here and there along the road provided indication that it was travelled often enough. At least one fresher pile of dung suggested that a guar had passed that way no more than a day before.

It didn't seem so terribly unusual to see nobody along the road. As Faryl had casually mentioned more than once since leaving Blacklight on Sundas, some days they might come across quite a few people out on the roads and at other times, none at all.

Despite Suvaris' reasonable expectations, there'd been no direct encounters with any of Morrowind's more dangerous creatures along the way. Around mid-morning, he'd spotted what looked like a cliff racer flying over the hills below Ash Mountain, but it remained quite some distance away and subsequently of no immediate threat. He'd also observed a large shalk beetle picking its way over the hardened lava flow north of the road, not far from the Othrenis turn-off, but again that creature wasn't near enough to cause concern.

Similarly, they'd heard noises coming from over a hill between the main road and that other road leading to Othrenis. It sounded like two or more alit involved in some sort of scuffle or the like. Though the distant noises clearly agitated the pack-guar, those other reptilian creatures remained distant, not even coming into view.

Even by midday, it still didn't seem quite so hot that day. Though the southerly breeze seemed perhaps a little warmer by then, the wind had increased in intensity. The net offset seemed to make for relatively comfortable conditions.

It wasn't until they'd finally made it to a position just north of the pass that would take them from the south of the Stonefall region to the north of the Deshaan, that Faryl held up his hand and called for halt. By that time, it was well past noon and even past the mark of one hour after midday.

Turning to his brother, Faryl handed over that dusk mask that he'd left hanging on his belt since leaving Old Ebonheart. "Reckon we oughta be stoppin' for a short one, while we got the chance."

"Not too long. Still wanna make Mournhold before dark." Dravyn looked to shoving the two dust masks into a pack on the guar, then rummaged in another pack looking for rations.

Bradyn added his thoughts. "The guar need a bit of rest." He was already looking to setting down the water dishes for the thirsty beasts.

Glancing upward to gauge the position of the sun, Faryl sounded optimistic. "We been makin' pretty good time. If we don't get no trouble, we oughta make it to Mournhold easy enuff. Reckon we'll be there before we go runnin' outa light."

Dravyn only grunted in response.

Though it had been several decades since he'd passed that way, Suvaris remained cautiously confident of Faryl's assessment. Still, he felt no need to directly weigh in with his opinion. By that time, he was certainly feeling thirsty again as well as quite hungry and he meant to deal with both those things as quickly and effortlessly as possible. That saltrice biscuit from earlier hadn't done much to serve as lasting sustenance. Reaching into his travelling pack he retrieved some dried meats and some cheese, feeling confident that it would serve him nicely to last the remainder of the journey.

With eating, drinking and resting at the forefront of concern, nobody spoke until each of those things was attended as best as possible. Despite any weariness from the steady march of the day so far, the idea of resting wasn't given much serious consideration. Soon enough, Dravyn was insisting that anyone needing to take a piss should go get it done and then once the guar were readied, they were quickly on their way again.

~O~


	14. Chapter 14

Winds of the Ashfall: An Elder Scrolls Tale

Greg J Miller

~O~

Chapter 14

Middas the 31st of Last Seed 4E71 Afternoon

After having stopped for only a brief lunch break, Suvaris and the Rurvyn traders continued along the southbound road toward the pass through the rocky hills. Suvaris wasn't quite certain of where the Stonefalls region currently ended and where the Deshaan began. In fact, he wasn't quite certain of where that line might have been drawn back in the day, when he last travelled that way. In truth, it hardly mattered. It would certainly become obvious enough once the more verdant hills and plains of the Deshaan came into view.

Though the patchy clouds continued to lazily roll overhead from the south, none of them appeared to bring the promise or threat of rain. The light afternoon breeze also continued to blow from the south, keeping things feeling relatively comfortable.

Since leaving the area of those farmlands just east of Old Ebonheart, the elevation of the land had continued to steadily rise. By Suvaris' reasonable estimate, the central highlands east of the Stonefalls region rose much higher. Even so, the terrain about that southern pass was certainly far higher than any of the land back around Old Ebonheart.

Just as the road was taking them through the start of the broader gorges leading through the hills, Suvaris had been considering something that he'd noted with regard to the Rurvyn's pack-guar. Though the packs seemed visibly reduced in bulk since leaving Old Ebonheart, the beasts looked to be bearing a heavier load. Of course, he understood the reasons for their journey to Ebonheart. The need and the opportunity seemed clear enough. A vital service could be provided and there was likely some small profit in attending to that requirement. He imagined that travelling all the way to Mournhold without good trade prospects seemed unlikely. However, he held no reasonable idea of what that might currently represent.

Though he didn't mean to pry too far into their business, his curiosity had been gently piqued. He looked to Faryl in a casual manner. "Forgive me, but what kind of trade with Mournhold sustains the effort of such a journey during these times?"

Faryl shrugged mildly. He didn't seem at all offended. "Y'know, a bit of this an' a bit of that. Some salt from Ol' Ebonheart. Everybody needs salt. More so, since they ain't got no active salt-mine about those parts. Got a few bottles of brandy from Silgrad, going to a buyer in Mournhold what pays nicely for that. Oh yeah, some spent soul gems an' some hard to get alchemy ingredients for a mage type fella in the city. Some other stuff, as well."

Suvaris nodded with a thoughtful expression. "I see. What sort of trade does Mournhold have to offer in these times?"

Faryl shrugged again. "Y'know, different stuff at different times."

Though Dravyn and his son were lagging a few paces behind, he'd been listening in on the exchange. "If things went well, we oughta be headin' back north with a good haul."

Faryl nodded. "Yeah, hopefully. Otherwise, we'll be huntin' about fer other goods to make it all worth our while."

Suvaris returned a silent expression of perplexed curiosity.

Faryl resumed. "Fella reckons he's gonna have some materials from them old Dwarven ruins. Them ones just a bit north of Mournhold."

Suvaris frowned, trying to recall the name. "Mzith… Mzithumz?"

Faryl nodded with an expression of mild uncertainty. "Yeah, think that's the one."

Suvaris was still frowning. "From my understanding, the readily accessible sections of that place would have been mostly cleaned out, many years past. Of course beyond that, accessing any of the deeper underground parts of such a city… Well, I've heard that ancient Dwemer ruins can be extraordinarily dangerous. Dangerous automatons and other mechanical apparatus… they've been said to be remaining fully functional long after the disappearance of the Dwemer."

Faryl's head bobbed from side to side. "Yeah, so I hear. But these fellas ain't goin' nowhere near them kinda things. They reckoned that a recent landslide exposed a new part."

Dravyn weighed in again. "Some sorta old storehouse or the like, over the northern side from where the usual entrance was. They say it's all blocked off from the underground city, cos of some sorta collapse inside. Whatever dangerous things might be down there below, they can't get though into that storehouse."

"Some of the best stuff's already gone." Bradyn pointed that out, in cynical tone.

Faryl nodded again. "Yeah, some Dwarven armour an' weapons… that sorta stuff fetches real good coin with Imperials. Some other valuables already been done with, as well."

"Not all of it, but." Dravyn countered, without going into further detail.

Faryl elaborated. "Yeah, still lotsa scraps of Dwarven metal an' the like. Even metal plate an' bits off old furniture an' the like. That's what we're s'pos'ta be gettin'. All that stuff can still be melted down an' reworked, with the right kinda skills."

Dravyn spoke again. "Ain't worth as much as proper armour or weapons, but the right buyers'll pay well enuff for them materials."

"That's what we're plannin' on. So long as they got the stuff they said." Faryl tried to sound confident.

"I wish you luck with that." Suvaris responded in sincere tone.

During the course of that conversation, Suvaris had been periodically looking to the near ridges and relatively barren hills to either side of the way ahead. In days long gone by, bandits had been known to periodically ambush travellers and traders at certain places in that area. With seemingly far fewer travellers on the roads during the new era, he considered it somewhat less likely. Still, he didn't dismiss the possibility. He recalled those two unlucky outlaws near the ferry crossing over the Thir a couple of weeks earlier.

Suvaris actually considered the more likely threat could come from the land's wild creatures. On his right, he'd noticed something circling over the rocky hilltops to the south of the area near to the Othrenis necropolis. He was confident that it wasn't a cliff racer, even though it easily qualified as the kind of place he'd expect to see those flying creatures. Because it was too far off to clearly see, he couldn't decide exactly what he was looking at. From the dark profile, he thought that it looked like a vulture. However, those birds were more often spotted in small groups. He'd tenuously decided that it was either a large cliff darter or else an eagle of some kind. In any case, it was of no direct concern.

Bradyn's alarmed voice suddenly drew attention back to the road. "Up ahead."

Responding to the alert, Suvaris observed the group of five figures appearing on the road as they rounded a bend partially obscured by the rocky hillside. Some of them appeared to be wearing hooded cloaks and some looked to be carrying heavy loads.

"Looks like Khajiit, I reckon." Dravyn was the first to offer his opinion.

"Looks like." Faryl agreed with his brother.

Without offering comment, Suvaris thought the same. He could just tell that the two near the front of the group were Khajiit. One was a Cathay female. The male next to her stood just slightly taller and looked to be a Suthay-raht, from the way he was walking. He couldn't yet clearly make out any of the others behind them. His hands had reflexively shifted to the hilts of his ebony blades.

Faryl spoke again. "Think they look like travellin' traders."

"Hope that's the case." Dravyn sounded suspicious.

Bradyn didn't seem to have anything to add.

As they approached just a little closer, it became clear that the Cathay female was much older than the others. A second male behind her also appeared to be a Suthay-raht, with those odd shaped feline legs causing him to pad along on the balls of his feet. The other two were not yet as easily identified. The one right at the back appeared to be pulling a small cart.

By Suvaris' estimate, they certainly appeared to be a travelling trade caravan of some description. Though he'd seen the like passing through parts of Cyrodiil often enough, he didn't think that they regularly frequented Morrowind. Perhaps more so, since he believed that the homeland would have provided for fewer opportunities for prosperity than in times long gone by. In any case, he imagined that it would have seemed far too elaborate a ruse for any group of bandits.

Suvaris glanced to Faryl. "Do they look like anyone you've encountered before?"

Faryl looked to be studying the approaching group, but trying not to seem too obvious about it. His response remained vague. "Yeah, ah… couldn't really say. 'Cept they… they look like Khajiit traders."

"All look the same ta me. 'Cept some got cat legs and some don't." Dravyn's tone sounded more indifferent than overtly belligerent.

Faryl commented again. "Don't see a lot of Khajiit, real often. Some, but not a lot."

"No, not a lot." Dravyn echoed his brother's words.

"Could be trouble." Bradyn sounded apprehensive.

His father grunted. "We best hang back with the guar an' keep quiet. Let Faryl do the talkin'. An' keep yer eyes open, just in case."

The Rurvyns fell quiet as the distance closed between them and the Khajiit.

Suvaris had already opted for silence before the others had finished their words. He could finally tell with certainty that all five were Khajiit. The one pulling the cart appeared to be a broad-shouldered Cathay male. The female near the back kept her hood in place, but appeared to be Omhes-raht from what he could see. They could well have all been the same family. He knew well enough that the differences in Khajiit body types were dictated by the phases of the moons at the time of birth. Though they were rarely seen outside of their homeland, some Khajiit looked more like mountain lions or housecats. Even so, differing appearances aside, they were all of the same species.

By that point, Suvaris wasn't really anticipating any trouble, but accepted that it was always a possibility. Though there were likely no Khajiit alive to recall it, less than a hundred years had passed since Khajiit were among those kept in slavery in Morrowind.

Faryl signalled a halt as he shifted over to one edge of the road. Suvaris remained by his side on the road and the other two held back a few paces with the guar.

The Cathay female nodded and she seemed to say something reassuring to her nearest companion, speaking in native Ta'agra. That slightly taller Suthay-raht by her side was armed and appeared to be wearing armour beneath his cloak. Though he watched Suvaris with clear interest, he otherwise appeared relatively relaxed and not outwardly threatening.

Pausing just a few paces away, the matronly Cathay pulled back her hood, then held out open hands. The darker stripes in her fur seemed lightly faded. She bowed her head just slightly and affected a toothy smile. "Warm day to you, fellow travellers."

"An' ah… warm day ta you as well." Faryl tried to sound friendly.

"Dunmer are fellow traders, yes?" Her feline ears pricked up as her eyes widened in earnest question.

Faryl nodded. "Yeah, that we are. Headed down to Mournhold."

"Ah… the City of Light and Magic, yes?"

"Yeah, ah… that's what they useta call it. But it ain't really what it useta be."

"Khajiit have just come from that place, making trade with Dunmer."

"Yeah? Hope that worked out well for ya."

The elder Cathay inclined her head slightly. "Some Dunmer do not trust Khajiit, but some are pleased to trade things with Khajiit."

Faryl tried to maintain a friendly expression. "Don't see a lot of Khajiit around these parts, these days. So, I s'pose some folk might be a bit slow ta warm up."

"As you say. This one heard that many Khajiit trading in Skyrim say that Dunmer of Morrowind might have need of things, so this one comes to Morrowind bringing things."

"Yeah… everyone needs things. Ya just gotta have the right sorta things. Ya come up from Mournhold way? Which way didja come before that?"

The Cathay broadened her smile. "Khajiit can pass where Dunmer cannot, yes? The long journey began in Elsweyr. Khajiit travel through the Argonian lands into Morrowind, bringing rare spices and other treasures."

Faryl nodded his understanding. "Reckon ya might have some luck up north. Places like Ol' Ebonheart an' such have need of trade right now."

The Cathay matron nodded her appreciation of the advice. "Khajiit mean to travel to northern places of Morrowind. From there to Riften. Afterward, passing back through Imperial Cyrodiil, before the long winter comes upon the Nords. By the time of cooler moons, Khajiit will be back upon the warm sands of the homeland."

A few more pleasantries and other tidbits were exchanged. Aside from suggesting places where the Khajiit might find trade opportunity, Faryl advised that the roads to the north had been clear of trouble that day. However, he also advised that they should watch out for wild creatures, making special mention of flying cliff racers.

The matronly Cathay responded in kind, telling them that they'd seen no troubles along the road since leaving Mournhold. She only mentioned that they'd witnessed a group of bounty hunters dragging a pair of beaten outlaws back toward the city, but it seemed of no concern for other travellers.

Soon enough, the two parties were back on the road and again headed toward their separate destinations.

* * *

Though the afternoon was just starting to grow late, there were still a few hours of daylight remaining as the party emerged from the narrow pass though the barren hills. With the shape of the terrain ahead through the higher country, their destination remained out of view, but they knew that it wasn't all that far off. They remained confident of making the city by dark.

A little further along, the landscape began to alter dramatically. The barren rocky hills near to the pass gave way to a somewhat greener countryside. It was still fairly hilly and rugged, but patchy grasses and bushes began to dominate. Though it could hardly be described as forested, a few mahogany and beech trees appeared. They were not as hardy of appearance as those much further south, but certainly healthier than those trees of the northern Stonefalls region. A few clusters of mushrooms also grew here and there, but again not quite like the towering fungus of the lower Deshaan plains.

Though Mournhold remained hidden behind the hills for some time, Suvaris occasionally caught some sight of the Deshaan plains beyond. In spite of the haze in the air obscuring detail, he could see almost to the southern marshlands.

That haziness served as a reminder of increased moisture on the air down there. It reminded him of the contrast to the generally drier heat north of the Deshaan. It also put him in mind of that balmy summer weather he recalled from previous journeys to Mournhold and Narsis many years before.

Back in the day, thinking of that always served as just one more reason to long for return to his home, located just south of Kragenmoor. Though the weather and the conditions might have seemed more variable in that area, it rarely seemed to lean toward those extremes of some other parts of the land.

As they proceeded onward and downward, the southbound road remained west of a small stream that periodically came into view off to the left. From old maps, Suvaris knew that it originated somewhere in the highland hills to the south-east of Darnim Watch. The uppermost reaches of that waterway started just below the central highlands of the east, bordering the southern portion of those regions traditionally administered by House Telvanni. As he understood it, most of the streams of that region drained to the east or the west. That stream was the only one winding its way south from the highlands.

He also knew that the highland stream continued southward, shadowing the Mournhold road, until it eventually fed into Lake Amaya, bordering the north of Mournhold's city walls.

Upon at least two occasions, Suvaris had been expecting something of Mournhold to come into view after clearing a bend or rise in the road. However, his recollection of previous journeys along that road had evidently become rather vague. The path had likely changed only a little over the past decades, but the same could probably not be said for his memory.

Passing a rocky outcrop shrouded with bushes and single large beech, situated above the beginning of a series of cascades along that stream, the most prominent feature of Mournhold finally came into view.

Suvaris was just mildly surprised to see that the three spired towers of the old Tribunal Temple appeared intact. He'd heard that the temple had been damaged during the Argonian invasion, but he held no direct knowledge of the extent of it. The pale spires still gleamed in the afternoon sunlight, rising well above the outer city walls and reaching for the heavens.

"I wasn't certain that it would still be standing." Though mumbling slightly, Suvaris had spoken aloud.

Faryl knew what he was talking about. "I'm told that it pretty much looks the same as the old days. Least from outside."

Suvaris passed a silent glance.

Faryl continued. "They say the lizards made a mess of the place, but they didn't tear it all down or nothin'. Them New Temple priests s'poseta have fixed it up inside."

Suvaris passed another curious expression. "You've not seen inside?"

Faryl shrugged. "Not really my sorta thing. I'm all for reverin' the ancestors an' such, but ain't got no need ta go worshippin' them Reclamation Daedra."

Suvaris offered no direct comment. He held no particular interest in matters of pious worship of any specific persuasion. In truth, he only ever really visited the temple in Cheydinhal seeking the blessings of the Divines for the purpose of healing or other curative needs. Even then, it was a rare thing.

Without encouragement, Faryl continued with his thoughts. "Don't get me wrong. Ain't got nothin' against 'em… Azura, Mephala an' Boethia. I just figure they don't need the likes of me worshippin' at their statues. They got plenty of others to bother 'em."

Suvaris only returned a silent nod, keeping his eyes upon the path ahead and what little he could glimpse of the city down below.

Faryl chuckled dryly. "Reckon if I was the worshippin' kind, I prolly be prayin' to Zenithar for better trade prospects an' such."

Dravyn grunted behind him. "Best be keepin' all that to yourself around Mournhold. I don't wanna be explainin' to the Ordinators how me brother is just touched in the head."

Faryl chuckled again, having successfully provoked a rise out of his brother.

A short time later, the road drew very close to that highland stream again, then crossed over it with a sturdy timber bridge. The crossing was positioned just before the cascading drop down to the very last run of the southward flowing stream.

From there, the road continued downhill along the eastern side of the stream. That waterway broadened out into something almost like a tiny lake. Below the stone bridge across the very end of it, the previous collapse of the riverbanks had formed a rocky dam of sorts. The waters cascaded over those rocks into the larger body of water about Mournhold.

Descending from the higher ground, Suvaris' view of what lay beyond the city walls became obscured, just as his view of the waters surrounding the city grew more clear. Of course, Lake Amaya served as the freshwater supply of the entire city. Long ago, channels had been diverted from the lake, feeding into a system of cisterns and exposed waterways inside the city walls.

Looking off toward the south, he could see where Lake Amaya overflowed to the falls below. Those waters drained southward, forming the Oortrel River. He knew that much further south that river joined up with that other waterway flowing east from the lakes located about Narsis. That flow continued on southward to filter through the southern marshlands and eventually connect with the Gideon River.

Though much of his clear view toward the east became obscured, Suvaris recalled well enough what lay in that direction. Lake Amaya cradled the north of Mournhold. Another waterfall flowed down into the lower body of water expanding outward toward the east. The main flow of the Loqueach River continued eastward from there.

He reminded himself of the secondary waterway splitting off from the lower lake. The coiled path of the Korgathi River hardly seemed to represent a proper river in his mind. It really seemed more like a series of tenuously connected channels winding through the lowlands of the lesser valley just south of the Loqueach. From his recollection, it only flowed continuously like an actual river during the wetter months, reconnecting with the Loqueach just a little further east.

As they made their way along the road down toward the city, the sun gradually disappeared behind the hills to the west. Despite the line of white fluffy clouds gathering in the south, the red glow of the western horizon seemed an indication of another fine day ahead for Turdas. In relative silence, they continued onward, fully intent upon making their destination before darkness set in.

* * *

Though the twilight was upon them, it was still not quite dark as they finally crossed over the waters toward the walls of Mournhold. In contrast to the sturdy stone bridge east of the city, the damage to the western wall of the city served as some fair indication that Mournhold might not appear quite as Suvaris recalled.

He could see that it appeared that a large breach had been made in the gray stone wall at some time in the past. It was reasonable to presume that it had occurred during the Argonian invasion. He could recognise how the wall had been shored up and partially rebuilt about a break next to the guard tower in that section. Instead of the solid wall, which used to be there, a large gateway had been fashioned to fit the break. The iron-framed gates were wide open. Mounted torches burned, illuminating the passage. A pair of armoured Indoril Ordinators stood guard at either side, leaning upon their long bladed spears.

As Suvaris and the Rurvyns approached across the bridge, a few local Dunmer had streamed out of the gateway and headed off along the roadway leading south around the outside of the wall. An unusually well dressed Redguard man had stopped to speak with one of the guards. From his attire, he looked like he might hail from the Imperial province. He seemed to be familiar with the guard and soon passed through into the city.

Suvaris was just thinking how the last time he'd seen Mournhold, the only entrance into the walled city had been via the fortified southern gates at the Plaza Brindisi Dorom. Of course, that last time that he'd been there, the open parklands of that plaza had still been occupied by the refugee encampments, after the recent devastation of Vvardenfell. There were even more people in the encampments outside the walls at that time.

Faryl spoke up, interrupting Suvaris' thoughts. "If yer lookin' for one of them more upmarket taverns, there's that 'Winged Guar' in there. It's sposeta be the best place in the Godsreach District."

Suvaris looked back with raised eyebrows. "The Winged Guar? It used to be the only tavern in the Godsreach."

Faryl shrugged with a grin. "Reckon that's why they say it's the best one."

Suvaris returned a strained smile. "Yes, quite so."

Dravyn made a grumbling noise. "We can't hang about here."

Faryl briefly glanced back to his brother, before looking to Suvaris again. "No, we can't. Guar ain't allowed inside the main city. We gotta head off 'round ta the south. We'll be stayin' at a more ordinary place, out the front parts."

Suvaris glanced toward the south, before turning back to Faryl.

Faryl spoke again. "Less you're coming 'round to the south side of town, reckon this'll be where we part ways."

Suvaris nodded. "Yes, I suppose that it is." He paused, bowing his head slightly. "May I say that it has been a pleasure to make your acquaintance and travel in your company."

Faryl responded with an easy grin. "Yeah, reckon I can say the same. All things bein' equal, we'll most likely only be about Mournhold for tomorrow, then be headin' off back north on Fredas. Course if yer don't find what yer lookin' for and yer headin' back that day, yer welcome ta travel with us again."

"Most gracious." Suvaris bowed his head once more.

Further friendly farewells were exchanged with both Dravyn and his son and they then went their separate ways.

* * *

At his approach to the gateway, the Ordinators seemed to have directed their full attention toward Suvaris. Of course, with those metallic helmets all featuring the supposed likeness of Nerevar, it made it impossible to see their faces. Even so, their other movements demonstrated their obvious interest in the expensively armoured stranger headed their way.

Adorned in blue and gold, with their high crested helmets and long flowing capes, Suvaris always thought that their armour appeared more ceremonial than functional. Even so, he understood that each Ordinator was highly trained. Though it seemed that they rarely implemented those skills, they were said to be highly formidable. He casually wondered whether they still viewed guarding the once majestic city of Mournhold as a great honour, or if it had come to seem something less so. Of course, he intended to keep those thoughts to himself.

Adopting a respectful posture, Suvaris identified himself as Fighters Guild out of Cheydinhal, adding that he originally hailed from Kragenmoor. He'd already come to decide that it seemed the best combination of detail to provide in the homeland. Recalling how difficult some of those Ordinators could be at times, he also offered to provide his official papers.

The guard standing to his right seemed to betray some measure of uncertainty, but the one on the left seemed more decisive. Suvaris was taken at his word and waved through without having to provide documentation.

Beyond the entrance, a short bridge of sorts crossed over the narrow canal running along the inside edge of the wall. The canal itself seemed the only familiar feature. Looking beyond that, almost everything else seemed not at all what he recalled from decades before.

With the exception of just one or two structures that seemed to reflect the style of the structures previously occupying the Godsreach, most everything else appeared markedly changed from before. Though it was difficult to easily tell, it seemed that nearly everything from earlier decades was gone and had been replaced with a greater number of lesser-sized structures, increasing the overall density of the residential housing of the district.

Suvaris looked over to his left, where decades before there had been a large manor of the House Indoril styling of Velothi architecture. In its place, it seemed that four small dwellings had been built atop four similar dwellings at ground level. Aside from the roof tiling, they appeared rather plain and utilitarian.

The street lamps of the Godsreach had already been lit, illuminating the main pathways in the fading light. He briefly noticed that Secunda was already shining in the eastern sky, appearing well on its way toward half-full. Of course, the waning Masser had yet to rise.

Suvaris made his way along the street toward where he expected to find the crossroad at the centre of the district. As he recalled, that was near to where the Winged Guar used to be.

Soon enough, he'd found the tavern situated just north of the crossroads. It seemed obvious enough that it was not the old building, but a new structure built on the same location. It just vaguely looked something like the old place, though perhaps slightly larger.

Inside the crowded tavern, Suvaris headed directly for the Dunmer barkeep, intending to secure lodgings before attending any other matter. That Redguard man he'd noticed before was there, busy negotiating some sort of business.

Once the barkeep was free, he'd introduced himself and made inquiry of any other individuals going by the Suvaris name. He had no trouble acquiring accommodation for the evening, but no immediate luck on the other matter.

After the long journey, Suvaris found himself feeling more weariness than he might have reasonably anticipated. After making use of the bathroom facilities and cleaning up, he looked to having a hot meal and then retiring to his rented room. The matter of pursuing the person he'd come to find would keep until the next morning.

Only for a brief time, Suvaris tried reading that book about the pirates, but soon found that he seemed far too tired for it. Before long at all, he was looking to the matter of surrendering to sleep.

~O~


	15. Chapter 15

Winds of the Ashfall: An Elder Scrolls Tale

Greg J Miller

~O~

Chapter 15

Turdas the 1st of Hearthfire 4E71 Morning

It was after the dawn, but still fairly early as Alaron Suvaris rose that morning. Given that he'd gone to sleep relatively early in the evening, he thought that he'd managed to slumber a little longer than he'd really intended. Even so, he quietly conceded that he was probably feeling all the better rested for it. At the least, his sleep had not been plagued by any disturbing nightmares, like those he'd experienced the previous evening. If he'd dreamed at all during the night, he remained unaware, recalling nothing at all.

After attending to immediate concerns and washing his face to ward off lingering sleepiness, Suvaris dressed in his ebony armour and packed away some loose items back into his travelling pack. Before tying off the pack, he changed his mind. He extracted some food items that he thought better to be eaten before they became spoiled.

As he was eating, he considered the mild irony of the past few days. He'd initially ended up travelling with the Rurvyns in order to avoid finding himself again entangled with escorting vulnerable travellers along the roads to Mournhold. As it passed, aside from effectively escorting those traders, he'd not encountered any other travellers drawing him into other unwanted diversion.

Even so, he felt no regret over what transpired. He'd found the Rurvyns to be quite personable travelling companions. Added to that, they'd served to help him gain some better perspective of the general state of things in the homeland. Perhaps more so than those others he'd previously encountered during those weeks beforehand.

Given his weariness of the previous evening, Suvaris had not really given much thought to his opinion of the newer Winged Guar. Looking about that rented room, he considered it to be of perfectly satisfactory amenity. It could hardly be described as anything luxurious, but it was relatively clean and tidy and seemingly free of crawling insects or the like. On balance, it seemed no better or worse than most of the places he'd stayed in the homeland over the past weeks. He knew that he could certainly find far better places in certain cities of Cyrodiil, but he'd also have no trouble finding worse.

Releasing a mild sigh, Suvaris gathered himself to depart. He expected that the day would likely provide ample opportunity to take measure of what had become of all of Mournhold since he'd last been there.

Heading downstairs to the tavern area of the Winged Guar, Suvaris found himself momentarily considering the size of that main level. He couldn't quite decide whether it was truly larger than the previous structure, or whether it was really the same size, but arranged more spaciously. He supposed that it didn't really matter. It was only a matter of passing curiosity.

Movement behind the tavern's service counter interrupted Suvaris' distracted thoughts. The older Dunmer barkeep he'd spoken with the previous evening seemed absent. In his place, there was a younger male of notably similar appearance. He seemed like he might be a son or nephew. No one else was about at all.

Cordial greetings were exchanged as he returned the key to his rented room. Since he held no clear idea of his expected movements, he made no immediate plans to secure lodgings for any more than that single evening.

Suvaris did pause to ask the other Dunmer whether he held any knowledge of the person he was looking for. The response wasn't so surprising. He said that he'd not heard of any Travlon Suvaris. He mentioned that he'd certainly come across one or two Travlons before, but the Suvaris name remained unfamiliar.

After thanking the other Dunmer for his time, Suvaris was on his way.

* * *

Stepping out onto the street, Suvaris paused just outside the Winged Guar to consider his next movements. He looked up to the eastern sky, noting that the sun was just beginning to appear over the inner city wall. He estimated that it must have been no more than about a half-hour before eight. There were just a few light clouds drifting across the blue firmament. He thought that it already seemed unusually warm at that hour for the first day of Hearthfire. He imagined that it would have been much cooler back in Cheydinhal.

Suvaris casually noted that the stone walls of Mournhold were not quite as high as those of Cyrodiil's Imperial City. Only from passing through that repurposed breach in the wall the previous evening, he was also reminded that the outer walls were not nearly as thick as those walls of Cyrodiil's capital.

As he understood it, under the direction of the Lady Almalexia, the construction of the fortified walls of Mournhold had originally been inspired by the design of the Imperial City. In a somewhat similar fashion, the five districts of Mournhold within the city walls were separated by tall inner walls, with the central district only publicly accessible via two points of entry.

Of course, all of that was done many centuries before. It was intended to serve as fortification designed to maximise the defence of the city against any hostile invaders. Back then, it was anticipated that the likely threat would come from the Imperial Legion. However, the armistice negotiated between Lord Vivec and Tiber Septim meant that those defences had not needed to be fully tested in that manner.

Even during the Oblivion Crisis, Mournhold's walls had not been tested by the Daedric hordes of Mehrunes Dagon, since no Oblivion Gates had emerged quite so close to that city. However, it seemed that the defensive walls had not been nearly enough to keep the rampaging Argonians at bay when they assaulted the city.

Looking out at the Godsreach District of Mournhold, something that travelling Khajiiti trader had mentioned the previous day returned to Suvaris' thoughts. She'd referred to it as the 'City of Light and Magic'. As he understood it, that more poetic name was largely derived from some reverence toward the Lady Almalexia watching over the greater city from the Tribunal Temple. Given the absence of those 'living gods' and the subsequent shift in perspective, he wondered if anyone but outsiders still referred to the city by that name.

It took a few moments for Suvaris to properly realise that there was something not actually observable in the Godsreach as he'd been looking about. He noted the absence of two structures from the eastern side. Both the old Museum of Artifacts and the Craftsmen's Hall used to occupy a space since replaced with somewhat crude housing. It seemed that aside from the Winged Guar, only residential structures were apparent since the rebuilding in that district. It could also be noted that many of those newer structures featured more timber than stone in their construction and did not appear built to stand the test of time. All of that was markedly different from what used to be there. He casually wondered what changes might have occurred throughout the rest of the city.

As he'd stopped to look about, Suvaris had noticed a few people departing from various residences and heading off for other places. Some left via that western gate where he'd entered the city the previous evening. Others appeared to be headed directly for the southern districts of the city via the gated doorway through the internal section-wall to the south.

Suvaris intended to make his way for the marketplace of the Great Bazaar, over the eastern side of the city. To get there, he'd need to go around the central district of the city, which it seemed remained inaccessible from the Godsreach.

Only since he expected it to be the least crowded path at that time of the day, Suvaris elected to take the northern gated doorway through the old Temple District.

* * *

Stepping through the northern gateway into the Temple Courtyard, at first glance it seemed more or less very much as he recalled from the last time he'd seen it. He did notice that the doors in the gateway were nothing like what used to be there. Though the doors had been properly fashioned to perfectly fit the arched gateway, they were of much lighter construction than the sturdy defensive gates of old.

Suvaris had mildly expected that the Ordinators might be restricting access into the Temple District, or at least monitoring as sentries, but that didn't seem to be the case. He did note a nearby Ordinator patrolling the walkways of the open parkland area. Though the guard did seem to glance in his direction, there seemed no direct interest in restricting his passage.

The open greenery of the courtyard space seemed much like before. If anything, he thought it appeared just a little better kept. The arrangement of trees across the grounds still dominated, providing shade over the grassy areas. A variety of cultivated flowering shrubs looked to have been added at some time, but that seemed the only notable change.

At first glance, the temple structure appeared just as he recalled. At least from the outside. Only looking more closely, he noted subtle signs of previous damage about the primary entrance and parts of the awning above. It seemed evident that repairs to the stonework had been made, leaving a slightly noticeable mismatch between the old and the new. Of course, the banners of Almalexia and the Tribunal had been replaced with those blue banners representing the New Temple.

Unless his search led him there, Suvaris held no intention of actually going inside the temple. What he observed from the outside was enough to sate his passing curiosity.

Looking to the right of the eastbound path across the courtyard, he noted the gated door to the central Royal Palace District. Like that other gateway he'd just passed though, it didn't look nearly as sturdy as what used to be there.

At that particular time, Suvaris held no certainty of precisely what was behind that gateway, since Mournhold no longer served as the seat of power in Morrowind. Presumably, the city still administered governance of the local region, if nothing else. He expected that House Indoril would have taken over the old palace for that purpose.

Aside from the former Royal Palace and the guard barracks, the Imperial Legion and other Imperial services also used to operate from the central district. However after the Oblivion Crisis, the Imperial occupancy remained very minimal. Aside from the possibility of an Imperial representative still assigned to a diplomatic position in the city, he couldn't imagine any other notable Imperial presence. He was fairly certain that there was no longer any Legion presence at all in the area. As he understood it, there weren't even any Legionnaires in Blacklight, other than those guards directly assigned to the Imperial Consulate in the Rootspire.

In any event, as far as he could know at that time, he somehow doubted that his activities would deliver any reason for him to venture into the central district of Mournhold.

Intent upon making his way for the main marketplace, he continued onward across the temple courtyard space toward the gateway over on the eastern side.

* * *

Passing though the gateway into the Great Bazaar, most of what Suvaris found in view struck him as immediately unfamiliar.

Unlike what he'd seen in the Godsreach District, the defensive walls remained fully intact. The elevated stone bridge extending over the middle of the marketplace district also remained intact. However, it seemed that nearly everything else he recalled of the Great Bazaar was gone.

The last time he'd seen the place, there used to be a row of trader's stores running along the southern side and a similar thing on the northern side, just below where he'd entered the district. There were still some stores in those same general locations, but rather shabby looking timber structures had replaced the old stone buildings.

Across the marketplace, he could see a far greater prevalence of open stalls, where once there'd been only a few things of the kind upon occasion. Several of those open arrangements were covered only by canvas canopy. Some not covered at all. It provided the immediate impression of a general transience of those marketplace traders, as though many of them didn't really expect to be there for an extended period.

From a brief conversation of many years before, Suvaris recalled that Mournhold's traders used to aspire to gaining residence in one of the stone stores located in the rows of the Great Bazaar. However, it seemed obvious enough that those shabby timber stores didn't inspire nearly as much zeal in the current state of things.

With a mild sigh, Suvaris made his way around to the stone steps leading down to the open marketplace. The only way to learn anything was to start asking questions.

Looking about, there was one thing of note in the Great Bazaar that he soon recognised. He'd spotted only one face that wasn't Dunmer. He'd observed a Bosmer archer of lesser stature acquiring supplies from a trader operating an open stall. It appeared that the trader specialised as a fletcher. Though he did also have a small selection of quivers and bows on display. Suvaris would have expected most individuals of the city to be Dunmer, but he recalled a time when there was a far broader mix of representation.

Of course, in spite of his accent and manner, he still that a found a friendly Dunmer greeting served best at the start of any conversation in the marketplace. Even so, he wasn't really so surprised that some traders were still not so interested in being helpful unless they believed there was an exchange of trade on the table. He also quickly learned to set aside mention of the Fighters Guild. Needing to further clarify that he had nothing to do with the local operation only seemed to muddy the waters.

His queries met with a range of responses. Even so, most of those he'd spoken with either held no recognition at all of anyone named Travlon Suvaris, or just seemed to hold no interest in even thinking about it.

Though the mention of the Suvaris family name was generally met with blank expressions, just a few stopped to think about that given name. Some vague mentions of Travlons, Tralvons and similar sounding names were tenuously offered by some.

There were really only two individuals in the marketplace who were both obliging and offering something that seemed potentially relevant to his inquiries.

"Y'know what? I reckon I mighta seen someone like that around here." The male Dunmer running a stall offering general items of trade returned a thoughtful expression. He'd only identified himself as Deras, evidently his first name.

"Was it recently?" Suvaris prompted him further.

Deras shook his head. "Nah, it was months back. Was a younger fella… and he did look maybe a bit like you. Only much younger, acourse. Pretty sure he said his name was Travlon, but can't rightly say I remember his family name."

"Do you think that you might've seen him around Mournhold before?"

"Dunno. Maybe. Maybe not. But I do remember talkin' to him that one time. Think he said somethin' about how he been workin' the barges."

Suvaris' brow furrowed. He recalled that goods used to be loaded on and off the docks of the lake, around the north-east, just outside the wall. From there, the barges were taken to the transfer station, and then crates were raised or lowered by winch to and from the piers situated down on the river. The river barges used to carry goods along the shallows of the Loqueach out to the small township where larger ships docked.

"The barges? On the lake or the river?" Suvaris sought clarification.

Deras looked confused. "The lake? Ain't been used for that in years. They got wagons ta take stuff out to the docks an' come back with other stuff. The docks at the top of the river, by the falls. Them barges only go from there out ta Ald Mire."

Without comment, Suvaris nodded absently. He presumed that Ald Mire had to be the place he was thinking of, located a few leagues down river. He thought that it used to be called Silent Mire or something very much like that, but he recalled that some just referred to it as the 'eastern river port'. He also recalled that a number of free Argonians used to live there after the ending of slavery. He imagined it rather unlikely that any still lived there.

Ignoring the brief silence, Deras resumed. "That young fella, I remember he was lookin' for new boots. Since I didn't have nothin' like that, I pointed him toward Radene's." He indicated the clothier's store over near the south-eastern corner of the marketplace.

Suvaris glanced in that direction with a frown. The grumpy Dunmer in that store hadn't been helpful at all. She'd denied knowledge of even being aware of anyone matching his description. It was certainly possible that she hadn't recalled at all, but it also seemed that she might not have spoken of it, even if she had.

Though he probably didn't need anything else from the trader, Suvaris purchased a couple of salted meat sticks for later. Deras seemed outwardly pleased to be making a sale and Suvaris felt satisfied to have found someone actually trying to be helpful. After all, the trader did provide the first tangible clue that there might actually be someone for him to find.

The only other person in the Great Bazaar to provide something of interest was an elderly female Dunmer operating a stall with various potions and alchemical ingredients. She seemed hard of hearing and her eyesight also seemed to be failing her. She'd introduced herself as Nuula.

"Suvarin, you say?"

"No, no Suvaris." Affecting a respectful expression, he tried to speak more loudly and clearly, hoping not provoke any unintended offence.

"Ah, Suvaris." Nuula nodded. "Can't recall any Travlon Suvaris. Not a Travlon." She paused on that point. "Y'know, we had lotsa orphans around here, years back. First with them lot comin' down here after Vvardenfell, then even more after them lizards came an' killed lotsa folk." She paused again, gazing off toward nothing in particular. "I do reckon there was a young boy going by Suvaris, years back. Livin' in the camps out front of the city. Coulda been Suvarin, but I think it was Suvaris. Don't think he was a Travlon, though. Think it was… Varen or Taren… or somethin' like that."

Suvaris tensed, taking a sharp breath. "Taron… Taron Suvaris?"

"Taron? Coulda been." Nuula shrugged in an exaggerated manner.

"My bother's boy… he was named Taron Suvaris. He would've been no more than eight at the time of the Argonian invasion."

Nuula frowned. "Coulda been the same boy. Can't really say for sure."

"Do you… do you have any idea what became of him?"

"Couldn't say. Some orphans ended up with folk here in the city. Lotsa others ended up taken north, to places like Ol' Ebonheart and Darnim Watch and such. Some went off to Selfora an' other places down river from here. Figure that boy musta got taken in by somebody, but don't think it was anyone in Mournhold."

In further discussion, Nuula reiterated that she hadn't seen that Travlon that Deras had mentioned, but conceded that she probably wouldn't have noticed him unless he was up close and speaking with her. She suggested that if he did work the barges, then one of the warehouse traders out the front of the city might know about him, or else he might need to go out to the barge operators.

Again, he felt the best way to thank the elderly trader for her help was to purchase something. Only since Suvaris seemed to have taken casual interest in it, she'd recommended her special blend of trama-root-tea in honey. She'd advised of its mild calming affects, best taken for a good night's rest. She advised of just how much to dissolve in hot water for best results.

After exchanging coin for the concoction, Suvaris thanked Nuula once again and then continued onward. None of the other traders of the Great Bazaar provided anything remotely of value to his search.

Heading for the gated doorway leading to the southern district, Suvaris had been collecting his thoughts. If there was any substance to what he'd heard from those two traders, then it seemed to add up to something. Though he could not fathom exactly how it could be so, it suggested the possibility that his brother's son had somehow survived the demise of the rest of his family and then later gone on to have a son of his own, naming him after his father.

He was told that they had all died in the accident as they were fleeing the farming village. He'd not had any reason to doubt the word of old Lilitah. She'd clearly been distraught after making it to Kragenmoor, then losing the rest of her own family as the Argonians rampaged across the outer parts of that city. Even so, she'd been clear enough over what she'd witnessed as they fled cross-country from the farming village on their way for Kragenmoor.

He'd not managed to locate any identifiable remains when he'd later searched the rugged ravines and creeks of that area. At the time, he'd not been totally surprised. The heavy rains of the previous day and evening made tracking difficult. Added to that, the directions he'd received from Lilitah had not been very good.

At first, he wasn't even so certain he was even looking in the right place. In a flooded creek, he'd identified the partial wreckage of a wooden cart. Though it seemed that everything else had been washed away, he thought it to be the cart that his brother had taken from the farm during their flight.

Without finding any bodies or the like, he still viewed that as something of a small mercy. It might have provided final confirmation of what he already believed to be, but he still dreaded seeing with his own eyes. Even back then, he understood that there would've been a good chance that some creature of the wild had found what he was looking for before him. He'd been grateful that he'd not come across the aftermath of such a thing. Even so, he'd still believed that they'd all perished. Otherwise, he felt certain that someone would have returned to the farm during the period that followed afterward. Of course, no one had.

Unless it was all some very strange coincidence, learning of both a young boy named Taron Suvaris seen in Mournhold shortly after the Argonian invasion and then a younger Dunmer by the name of Travlon recently seen in the city, seemed an impossible convergence of happenstance.

* * *

Suvaris' previous train of thought had been distracted as he passed through into the southern section of the walled city. He noted the signage marked in Dunmeris, indicating that the Plaza Brindisi Dorom was still known by that ancient name. Though he'd not actually known of it during his youth, he'd since learned that the place had held that name since well before the city had been properly enclosed behind stone walls. He understood that the plaza area had been named after an Indoril Duke from the late first era.

Of course it wasn't really the Dunmeris signage that distracted him so much. It was mostly the case that everything else he could see had momentarily taken him aback. Back when Suvaris had firstly seen that place, it still served primarily as the open parkland entrance to the inner city. Aside from the defensive walls and guard towers about the perimeter, the only permanent structure in the plaza had been a rather mundane monument constructed in the centre of the open space. That low and flat monument primarily served to seal the cavity revealing those Dwemer ruins below.

Until all that business with the prophesised Nerevarine toward the end of the third era, nobody even knew of the Dwarven ruins hidden beneath the southern section of the city. It was after a number of individuals had perished attempting to salvage treasures from below, that the passage had been again sealed off from above with that monument.

The very last time that Suvaris had seen the plaza, the open parkland space had been littered with the temporary accommodation of refugee encampments.

With all of that in mind, the very first thing that struck him was that the Plaza Brindisi Dorom no longer looked at all like the former parkland.

A large stone building of somewhat utilitarian design had been constructed right in the centre of the plaza. It seemed to have been built right over the top of where that monument had previously covered passage to those Dwemer ruins below. Only from noticing the prominently displayed blue banners with the inverted triangular glyph, he presumed that it had something to do with the New Temple.

Though there were no tents or makeshift camps out across the plaza, but there were numerous crudely constructed timber dwellings set in rows along either side of the southern wall. He noticed that despite the generally poor state of things in Mournhold, it seemed to him that were far more people living there than he would have expected.

By contrast, he was thinking that the same could not be said of what he observed in Kragenmoor. With that other city, it seemed that its population had been reduced to perhaps a third of what it had been before the invasion. Though some rebuilding had occurred outside of the fortified portion of Kragenmoor, it appeared to have remained at low ebb.

The recent rebuilding in Mournhold looked to be a modest affair, at least in terms of the expense of implementation. However, it did seem to accommodate a seemingly large number of people. Still, he imagined that Mournhold's current population could not have been anywhere near to what it had been during the peak of prosperity during the third era. Even before the more recent calamities, the number of people living in that city had fallen off significantly.

Suvaris understood that part of that earlier reduction in population came about as a result of the mass migration of individuals to Vvardenfell, after the rest of the island beyond the Vivec City district had been again opened up for general settlement. As places like Balmora, Suran, Ald'ruhn, Pelagiad and the farmlands of the Ascadian Isles region boomed, much of that came about at the expense of Dunmer abandoning the mainland in favour of settlement upon Vvardenfell.

After the destruction of Vivec City and the eruptions of Red Mountain, there no longer seemed to be anything like that drawing Dunmer to such a place. At least, not for those who remained in the homeland, instead of seeking other lands beyond their own.

By Suvaris' estimate, though Mournhold appeared notably less wealthy than before, no longer standing as the ruling city of the land, it didn't seem quite so abandoned.

Approaching those not quite so heavily fortified gates in the southern wall of the city, Suvaris noted that the sun was nearing the apex of its arc across the sky. It was not yet midday, but it was not so far off.

~O~


	16. Chapter 16

Winds of the Ashfall: An Elder Scrolls Tale

Greg J Miller

~O~

Chapter 16

Turdas the 1st of Hearthfire 4E71 Afternoon

It had passed the mark of noon as Suvaris had been making his way about what remained of Mournhold outside the southern gates of the city walls. If he'd thought that some of those parts of the city within the walls had changed quite a bit since he'd last been there, it was just as much the case outside the walls; perhaps even more so.

After finding himself outside the main city walls, Suvaris soon stepped over to one side of the path, taking a long moment to gaze over what occupied the gentle slope below. As near as he could tell, nearly every structure that used to stand out there was gone and what had since come to take its place was completely unfamiliar. As he tried to make sense of the place, he'd been chewing on those salted meat sticks he'd acquired from that trader. Of course, what he was eating soon sent him reaching for his water flask.

The only things immediately recognisable were the main roads. To his right, he understood that the path headed westward along the edge of the defensive walls went around to where he'd firstly entered the city the previous evening and also to that bridge across the narrows of the upper lake. In a similar fashion, that other path following the wall around to the east led to where those piers use to be situated upon the lower section of the lake, if that was still there. Looking down the gentle slope, he could tell that the street leading south still connected to the main thoroughfare branching off in two directions. He knew well enough that the western road veered southward, headed for the Narsis region. Eastbound loosely followed the path of the Loqueach, eventually headed for the sea.

Anything else in view offered no familiarity. It appeared that none of the stone structures that he remembered remained standing. There was a rugged looking inn on one side of the main street ahead and another tavern of somewhat similar appearance over on the other side. Neither of them seemed the same ones as what had previously been there, and were not even situated in the same places.

Much of what he could see was dominated by many small timber dwellings, which appeared little better than shacks. Without quite neatly lining up, the arrangement of those structures seemed to produce the effect of narrow alleyways branching off from the main southbound street. He could even see a couple of those rough structures that had been previously busted into piles of rubble and seemingly just left that way.

Though that outer part of the city had always represented the less affluent area of Mournhold in terms of the residences, there still used to be some more sturdy structures out there. Only a few had been fully constructed of stone materials and the like, but it seemed that nothing at all like that remained.

Looking out and down toward the southern edge, he could see that only a few short sections of the ancient stone wall of the outer ring remained standing. Of course, it hadn't formed a complete wall the last time he'd seen it, but it seemed that even less of it had endured the past few decades.

He thought that he knew where the old Fighters Guild and the Mages Guild used to be, but there was nothing like that there any longer. The large mound of rubble over the western side appeared to represent what had become of the old Mages Guild.

With everything else markedly altered, he couldn't quite tell exactly where the old Fighters Guild had previously been, but he thought that some of those shoddy shacks on the eastern side occupied the same general area.

Out beyond the remnants of that outer stone wall, he observed some small farmlands further off to the south. From his recollections, he thought that there also used to be some other farms situated along the eastern road between Mournhold and Selfora, but all of that was well beyond his field of view from that location.

Aside from those two taverns on either side of the main street, he couldn't immediately see any other obvious places of trade. There were some slightly larger timber structures situated east of a cluster of shacks. Though taller than the surrounding rooves, they seemed far too small to be those trade warehouses he was looking for. Even so, he couldn't identify anything else that might qualify.

Suvaris picked his way over toward the eastern side. As he neared that area, he observed another roadway running along the eastern line. It appeared to come up from the main road to the east, leading directly to that area he was headed for.

What he'd taken for a row of timber shacks on his left, turned out to be stabling facilities. An unpleasant odour accompanied the noises of several guar kept there. To his mild surprise, he also noticed a wretched looking horse in the stables.

On his right, he gained a better view of those taller structures. Though not as large as he thought they should be, according to the signage, it appeared that at least two of them were trade warehouses.

Suvaris' attention was caught by a young voice calling out from behind.

"Sera… sera…"

Just then, a bantam guar dashed by his boots heading eastward. It then executed a sharp turn to the right and backtracked, then turned again and headed for the shacks to the south. A poorly dressed Dunmer boy of no more than ten or eleven brushed by in harried pursuit of the creature.

Given that he'd not seen any others about, Suvaris had assumed that local children of such an age would've likely been in schooling at that hour of the day. For whatever reason, at least one was out and about and chasing livestock around.

In passing, he'd briefly considered the possibility that the building he'd observed in the centre of the plaza with the New Temple banners might've served for the schooling of local children. That was just a wild guess, since he hadn't actually noticed anything that clarified that structure's purpose as he'd passed by, only that it was associated with the New Temple.

"Suvaris… Suvaris… wait up."

That male voice still seemed familiar to him. He turned about to observe Faryl Rurvyn hurriedly moving along the street in his direction. He seemed to be coming from the direction of the city walls. He waited in place as the trader caught up, then waited patiently waited another moment as the other Dunmer tried to regain his breath.

Suvaris chose to speak first, offering a friendly nod and a mild grin. "Good day to you, Faryl."

"Was hopin'… hopin' ta run into ya." Faryl still sounded slightly short of breath.

Suvaris raised his eyebrows in silent question.

"Was askin' around… with the ones I been dealin' with… askin' if they… if they hearda any Travlon Suvaris around these parts."

Suvaris returned another mild grin, with a tilt of his head. "I didn't expect for you to go to any trouble."

Faryl waved it off. "Ain't no trouble at all. Was dealin' with 'em anyways. Anyhow, a coupla fellas with the warehouses remembered the name. Said a younger fella by that name used to work the barges on the river, just east of here."

Suvaris returned another nod. "I'd just heard much the same from a merchant in the Great Bazaar. Well, more or less."

"From what I heard, they said that other Suvaris been livin' over at Selfora. Next town over, to the east."

"I know the place, if only vaguely."

"One fella reckons he knows someone else who works them barges, cept he says he ain't seen that Suvaris about recently. Reckons he mighta gone an' signed on with ships comin' up river or somethin' like that."

"The ships that dock at, ah… at Ald Mire?"

"Yeah, that place."

Suvaris returned a nod, with a thoughtful expression.

Faryl looked fairly pleased. "Leastways, it sounds like ya got somethin' go on."

"Yes, so it seems." Suvaris' pensive expression remained.

"Hope it all goes well for ya… bein' about family an' all that." Faryl paused with a broad smile, then his expression shifted again as he considered other tasks. "Speakin' of that, I gotta go see how Dravyn an' Bradyn are goin' with all that stuff."

Suvaris nodded. "I take it that the, ah… promised materials were available?"

Faryl's face lit up again as he returned another nod. "Yeah, all that turned out real good. Just gotta sort it for travel an' make sure it's not too much for the guar."

"Of course." Suvaris again thanked him for his consideration and assistance, then once again wished him luck on his journey back toward the north.

Faryl headed off for the back of the second trade warehouse and with some measure of uncertainty to his step, Suvaris idled toward that road running along the eastern edge of outer Mournhold.

* * *

Pausing briefly on the southbound path, Suvaris released a heavy sigh, looking up to those tall hills east of Mournhold. He understood that the township of Selfora was located at least a few leagues beyond those hills along the eastbound road. He'd been over there only the once, many years before, partnered with another Fighters Guild comrade. He estimated that he could probably make it to that township before dark easily enough.

From what he understood, Ald Mire was probably too far off to reach with what remained of the day. To the best of his knowledge, that other place was meant to be about twice as far away.

Of course, that secondary consideration was somewhat premature. Visiting Selfora first was the most sensible course of action in his mind. With any luck, that would likely advise him of what might be the next course to pursue. He did recall that there had previously been an inn at the township. He hoped that was still the case, as the tavern would likely provide some answers to his questions, if the locals were of sociable disposition.

Shifting the weight of his travelling pack upon his back, Suvaris started off down toward the eastbound road. However after only a few moments, he was unexpectedly distracted by what came into view just past the trade warehouses.

He observed that Bosmer archer from the marketplace headed for a timber structure along the road. The Bosmer passed directly through the front entrance of the place, closing the door behind. That relatively small building was flying the familiar red banners featuring a shield over crossed swords.

Evidently, he'd just come across that independent Fighters Guild of Mournhold that he'd kept hearing of. Of course, there'd been no sign of any kind of the remnants of the old Fighters Guild at Kragenmoor or Old Ebonheart or even at Blacklight. That Mournhold group was the only one he'd heard of.

Suvaris hesitated for a moment. His thoughts were torn between the notion of getting to Selfora before nightfall and considering investigation of what was right in his path. He glanced upward to take measure of the position of the sun. With another sigh, he adjusted his direction toward that structure with the Fighters Guild banners.

As he drew near, he briefly noted that the banners were faded and tattered about the edges. Even so, they did look very much like those banners that commonly hung outside Cyrodiil guildhalls.

Uncertain of precisely what to expect, Suvaris pushed open the door and stepped into the doorway. He hesitated before proceeding further inside.

On his left, that Bosmer archer turned to look in his direction with a mildly surprised expression, as he was finishing with hanging his weapons upon hooks along the wall. From appearances alone, it remained difficult to gauge the wood-elf's age.

Just behind him, a burly Nord with an unkempt beard and a thinning mane of fair coloured hair sat at a small table with a mug. His expression conveyed more suspicion than surprise. The Nord might have been in his late thirties or early forties. He still found it hard to judge the ages of some Nords, since some of them did seem to age prematurely.

A male voice called out from an open doorway to the right. "Hoy, Engor. Didja end up gettin' that…?" A younger male Dunmer paused in the doorway with his mouth open, looking to the unusually well-appointed visitor standing in the entrance. He glanced briefly to the other two in the room. From appearance, he could have been no older than thirty. Looking back to Suvaris, his eyes narrowed. "Wot are you lookin' for?"

Suvaris tried to maintain a neutral expression. "Alaron Suvaris. I used to serve with Kragenmoor's Fighters Guild."

The younger male Dunmer returned a dumbfounded expression.

A second Dunmer male of somewhat more years than the first one pushed past through that open doorway. Though obviously older than the younger Dunmer, he seemed likely of fewer years than Suvaris. "Kragenmoor? Ain't been nothin' like that in years."

Meeting the older Dunmer's gaze, Suvaris nodded. "No, not for many years. I now serve our people from the Cheydinhal guildhall."

The younger Dunmer spoke again. "So, wot are you doin' here then?"

The older Dunmer glared, without speaking.

Suvaris had noted that no introductions had been offered. Of course, he recognised none of the faces in the room. He maintained his tone of neutrality. "I am merely passing through… in pursuit of the rumour of a family member."

Without saying anything about it, that older Dunmer clearly appeared to be the one in charge of the others. Suvaris believed that he was the one who needed convincing of his intent. He went on to briefly explain why he'd come to Mournhold, additionally advising that he'd just learned of a Travlon Suvaris recently working the barges along the river and also said to have been living at Selfora.

The older Dunmer appeared to listen closely to what Suvaris had to say. The other three remained quiet, seemingly waiting to hear what their superior thought.

Still looking somewhat suspicious, the older Dunmer finally responded. "That the only reason yer here then?"

Suvaris returned a slight nod. "Well, yes. Only because I'd heard of some sort of Fighters Guild here… and then saw the banners as I was passing… I thought I should stop by."

he Dunmer in charge appeared unmoved. "Don't want nuthin' ta do with no Imperial Fighters Guild. We look after our own. Proper Dunmer, no outlanders."

"Hey." Both the Nord and Bosmer simultaneously expressed their objection.

"Ain't talkin' about you two. Ya lived here all yer lives. Yer practically honorary Dunmer, or the like." The older Dunmer turned back to Suvaris. "Ain't hearda no Suvaris around here. Coupla Travlon's maybe, but no Suvaris."

None of the others offered anything different.

Suvaris inclined his head in a respectful manner. He could easily tell that he was not at all welcome. "I shouldn't take up any more of your time. Added to that, I do intend to make it over to Selfora before the day is done."

That other Dunmer didn't seem about to shift his uncompanionable position. "Yeah well, don't let us hold ya up. An' if it comes up, make sure them Imperial Fighters Guild lot know ta leave us be. We don't want nuthin' ta do with 'em."

"Of course." Suvaris returned another respectful nod and took his leave, leaving through the open doorway and closing it behind him.

* * *

Departing that Mournhold Fighters Guild, Suvaris didn't waste any further time, heading off directly downhill toward the eastbound road for Selfora. Without allowing it to unduly impede his progress, his thoughts did still remain distracted.

Though he found the brief experience rather distasteful, stopping in at that makeshift guildhall did at least serve to inform him more clearly. He might have hoped for something rather different, but what he'd found hardly surprised him so much.

Even so, the measure of resentment held for anything related to Imperial influence appeared even more pronounced than he might have anticipated. Of course, he did understand how many of his people would feel that way. Though he didn't truly share that viewpoint, generations of Dunmer had maintained at least some level of resentment toward the Imperials ever since Morrowind had been pressed into becoming part of Tiber Septim's Empire. Now that Morrowind was mostly free of direct control, it seemed that some still held onto that resolve with an almost irrational passion.

In his own mind, regardless of how some might feel about the Empire, Suvaris disagreed with the notion of harbouring ill will toward the Fighters Guild merely because it was headquartered in Chorrol. Granted, it did accept some its funding and some indirect influence from the Mede Empire. However, just as it had been since the initial founding of those first guilds during the second era, the Fighters Guild still maintained its independent operation as per the Charter of Guilds.

Of course, there was nothing to be done about an independent guildhall choosing to operate in that fashion. Many of the numerous guildhalls of that tumultuous time before the rise of Tiber Septim managed to weather those years in much the same fashion. Provided that they abided the local laws and customs according to the Fighters Guild Charter and managed to secure regional support, there were no grounds for formal interference.

Suvaris certainly believed that there would be greater value in uniting with the Chorrol-headed Guild and restoring the Fighters Guild presence across Morrowind. However, he fully understood that none of that would come to pass merely because he thought it the better choice. From his recollection, Karl gro-Baroth had felt much the same during his tenure as Guild Master in Chorrol and managed only some modest measure of success in High Rock and Hammerfell. Evidently, Morrowind had remained beyond his grasp.

* * *

Soon enough, Suvaris was on the eastbound road. Heading off along that road, he gave some passing thought to how there were also no longer any Mages Guild outfits or similar throughout Morrowind. He'd previously learned that some independent Mages Guild operations still existed in parts of High Rock and Hammerfell.

Of course, like that pile of rubble he'd spotted outside of Mournhold's wall, he knew well of how Kragenmoor's small guildhalls had also been destroyed. Seemingly, the guildhalls of other locations were also long gone.

With the collapse of the Mages Guild administered from the Arcane University of the Imperial City not so long after Oblivion Crisis, he supposed that it wasn't so truly surprising.

Back in Cyrodiil, many of the old Mages Guild facilities had been taken over by the College of Whispers in the regional cities. Of course, it seemed that the Synod was only really interested in maintaining its posture within the Imperial City and its position of relevance with Imperial military concerns.

He imagined that neither of those organisations would have recognised any value in extending their interests into Morrowind in the current state of affairs. To the best of his knowledge, the College of Whispers had only made some effort to expand into eastern Hammerfell, but otherwise remained mostly within Cyrodiil.

It seemed that nothing else like that had emerged in Morrowind to properly take the place of the Mages Guild. He expected that the priests of the New Temple probably held some sway over maintaining the healing arts. He also supposed that whatever remained of House Telvanni probably still took great interest in cultivating mages within their own ranks. However, he felt somewhat ill at ease over what Telvanni mages might pursue without the tempering influence of something like the Mages Guild.

In any case, such matters also remained well beyond any of his influence or concern.

* * *

With the afternoon sun at his back, Suvaris hastened his pace. The road ahead followed a path around the south of those rocky hills east of Mournhold. Not so far out, he observed some small farmlands just south of the main road. A lesser path ran up the middle between two farmhouses. Aside from noticing some rows of scrib cabbage, he didn't pay much attention to what else was growing in the crop fields. He instead focussed more upon the road ahead.

Beyond those farms, patches of wild kanet and jute grew amongst the grasses and heather by the sides of the road. A few clusters of lesser-sized mushrooms appeared dwarfed by the occasional Emperor Parasol towering above. In turn, the dominance of those taller mushrooms seemed only challenged by the smattering of tall beech trees in the area. Unlike further north, the tall and broad trunks of those beech seemed to swell with vigour, as did the broad spread of thriving foliage overhead.

A little further out, Suvaris came upon a sturdy stone bridge over a section of the upper Korgathi. Though he knew that the waterway was fed from Lake Amaya further north, to his left he could see what seemed like no more than a trickle flowing down into the broad pool on that side. As near as he could tell, the shallow stream on his right didn't really seem to be flowing at all.

It seemed that circumstance had not changed from what he recalled. The coiled path of the Korgathi likely still only flowed enough to properly reach the Loqueach when the rains were persistently plentiful.

Not so far beyond that bridge, a well-worn road split off to the north, heading over the rolling hills between that location and the river. As indicated by the signage, that was the road headed for the transport piers on the Loqueach where those river barges docked.

That stretch of the main road veered north for a short distance before eventually turning eastward once again. Not far from his immediate destination, the road passed along a relatively narrow strip of land framed by waterways on either side. The waters on his left formed a small lake of sorts. The marshy ponds on his right seemed to go on for much further, but remained shallow and insubstantial.

Across the far side of the marshes on the southern side, he observed a pair of wild alit amongst the reeds. The reptilian creatures appeared to be drinking from the water. Of course, there was far too much obstruction between their position and the road to cause any immediate concern.

The shadows leaning toward the east had drawn notably long by the time that Suvaris reached the road turning off to the left, heading uphill toward Selfora. There were a few small farms just outside the township. Bordering the crop fields, he observed quite a few more shady trees and tall mushrooms than he recalled from his previous visit. He was of the opinion that most of the hillside had been less wooded all those years before.

Looking about the township, it seemed more or less about the same size as what he vaguely remembered. There were fewer than twenty houses spread out across the hilltop. A few were of mixed stone construction. Others were mostly built from timber. With the arched roofing that seemed to extend halfway down the outer walls, he understood that style to be something more common to regions administered by House Dres than House Indoril. It was probably just as fair to suggest that it was common enough to many farming communities of the Deshaan.

Though he could hardly tell with any certainty what had been only constructed during recent decades, both the Selfora Inn and that large family mansion did seem to be the same structures that he recalled from many years before.

Shifting his gaze off toward the east, through the trees he could make out the tall Velothi styled towers of the old Tal'Deic Fortress rising up from the land below. Though he'd not been there, he understood that the old fortress occupied an island on the Loqueach. Exactly what purpose it might serve in the current state of affairs, he didn't know. He understood that the township of Ald Mire must be located somewhere a little further beyond that, where the waters of the Loqueach deepened enough for the ships to sail up the river.

Heading for the inn on the eastern side of town, Suvaris thought he caught a flash of light out of the corner of his right eye. He turned his head in that direction and then noticed the dark line of cloud on the edge of the southern horizon. A moment later, he noted another flash of lightning from a storm building in the distance. He concluded that it was probably somewhere over the Argonian marshes.

From his recollection, that was where most of the storms came from that brought rains to the Deshaan. He also recalled that many of those storms rarely made it over to Kragenmoor. The cool air coming down off the Valus Mountains tended to blow those storms eastward before reaching that place. Not always, but more often than not.

The storm clouds seemed too far off to tell whether anything would come of it. He couldn't even tell if it was actually headed northward, or if the dark clouds were actually drifting toward the eastern seas.

With dusk almost upon him, Suvaris stepped inside the Selfora Inn. Though the tavern area appeared relatively clean and tidy, it was not much to look at. He'd seen worse, but he'd also seen far better. All in all, it seemed typical of a small town tavern, just not one of the most terribly rustic kind.

There were only a few people inside the tavern. Each of them looked to be local Dunmer. Some of them had the look of farmers or the like. That was to be expected.

The elderly Dunmer barkeep seemed friendly enough. He was quite tall, but slender, with a shock of thinning white hair tied back into a tail. If not for his gray colouring, he might have looked a lot like an Altmer. He'd introduced himself as Fedris and didn't seem at all averse to Suvaris' outland-sounding accent. He'd enthusiastically mentioned that he had rooms available, before even being asked about it.

Fedris had taken pause upon hearing the stranger's name. "Suvaris, ya say? We had someone by that name in town."

"Would that be a Travlon Suvaris?"

"Yeah… yeah, that's right, young Travlon. Y'know what? By my reckonin', I'd say ya look like ya might be related."

Suvaris went on to briefly explain how he believed that Travlon might be his brother's grandson, though he'd previously believed that all the family had perished many years before.

Fedris scratched his pointed ear. "Can't say I hearda no Taron Suvaris… an' I been here since all them troubles. But I do remember that young Travlon. Saw him around here a fair bit over the last year or so. Since he was workin' the river barges an' all. Useta board with Malvi."

"But no longer?"

"Nah, I hear he's gone off. Went ta work the docks back down river, where goods get loaded up, at Ald Mire. Maybe lookin' ta get some work with the ships? Dunno fer sure."

After persuading Suvaris to take his best room for the evening, Fedris went on to explain where Malvi's house could be found. However before he'd quite finished, he'd declared it all unnecessary, because she'd just come into the tavern.

Brief introductions were made. At first, the older Dunmer woman seemed slightly suspicious. Then she'd seemed to decide to take Suvaris at his word, possibly recognising some subtle family resemblance to young Travlon. Her words mostly confirmed everything that Suvaris had already heard, telling him that Travlon had gone off to Ald Mire several weeks before and not been back since.

Responding to Suvaris' prompts, Malvi didn't seem to know any more about Travlon's parents, only that they weren't from around there. She couldn't recall him mentioning them by name at all. Only as 'mother' and 'father'. She thought that he used to live with his mother at the port town of Bosmora, near the mouth of the river. Though he'd never properly explained it, she'd gained the impression that his father wasn't around any more.

At the end of it, Malvi told Suvaris that she thought it was best go see the dock master over at Ald Mire, if he wanted to find young Travlon. Suvaris graciously thanked her and agreed to pass on her regards when he did finally locate him.

After cleaning up and acquiring a hot meal, Suvaris retired to his rented room for the evening, intending to be up early to go off to Ald Mire the next day. Though he remained uncertain of whether he would easily find the young Dunmer he was searching for, it seemed that he was on the right track.

~O~


	17. Chapter 17

Winds of the Ashfall: An Elder Scrolls Tale

Greg J Miller

~O~

Chapter 17

Fredas the 2nd of Hearthfire 4E71

Alaron Suvaris rose early that morning. He'd also managed to get to sleep quite early the previous evening, so he was feeling well rested when he awoke. The rented room at the Selfora Inn had been rather modest, but clean and tidy enough to suit his sensibilities. He imagined that he owed part of that good night's sleep to that blend of trama-root-tea in honey that he'd acquired from the old Dunmer trader in Mournhold's Great Bazaar. It seemed to work just as well as she'd assured him it would, precipitating peaceful and uninterrupted rest.

The dawn had only just broken as Suvaris departed the Selfora Inn. Over on the distant western horizon, he observed that that the pale waning crescent of Masser was just about to disappear from the dawning sky. Evidently, the waxing Secunda had already set some hours before.

The early morning air felt cool, but not cold. A few patchy clouds hovered in the southern skies, but there seemed no sign of darkened clouds in that direction. He imagined that those storms he'd observed the previous evening had drifted off toward the east without coming anywhere near his location.

A few of the local farm folk of the town were already out and about and headed off for the fields. Aside from that, the morning appeared notably peaceful and quiet.

Turning about, Suvaris looked off toward the eastern sky. Off through the trees, he could just make out part of the fortress in that direction. By his best guess, if that place was perhaps half way to Ald Mire, he expected that he should have no trouble reaching his destination before midday. Of course, he held no clear idea of the road in that direction, but he felt confident that the journey couldn't be too long or too troublesome.

With a mild sigh, Suvaris adjusted his helmet and shifted the weight of the travelling pack upon his back, then set off along the trail back down to the main eastbound road.

* * *

Along the main road down below Selfora, Suvaris cast his eye over the wetlands south of the eastbound path. Though it seemed hardly as extensive or substantial, it served to put him in mind of the vast marshlands south of Narsis. The Southern Marshes extended almost up to the location of that old city and most of the way across to the eastern coast, where the old House Dres city of Tear used to proudly dominated that region. Toward the south, those marshes merged into the Argonian lands and extended for some distance.

Of course by comparison, what he was looking at to the south of Selfora was not nearly as significant. The coiled path of the Korgathi was confined by the hills to the north, between that road and the Loqueach, and by those much taller hills off to the south. Rather than vast marshlands, it presented as more of a boggy lowland valley. Of course, some of it was just a series of ponds, marshes and a few small lakes. Other parts of it formed longer winding waterways, seemingly waiting for the rains to come so that it could flow like a proper river.

Suvaris vaguely recalled another reason for why the locals referred to the Korgathi as 'the coiled path'. It had something to do with Ashlander tribes living in the swamps of the valley and the legend of a giant ghost snake, which they worshipped as a nature spirit of some sort.

He'd heard of the regional Ashlanders causing occasional troubles for local farmers and townsfolk during earlier times, but he didn't know whether the legend of a snake spirit was perfectly accurate. He supposed that there must have been some substance to it.

Suvaris wasn't expecting to learn anything of that on that day. The only things he'd observed over the marshlands were rather more mundane. Dragonflies buzzed about over the nearby ponds. A few waterbirds foraged amongst the reeds by the shorelines. Unseen frogs or toads periodically croaked. He'd also heard some distant noises that sounded to him like a disagreement between alit or possibly kagouti. He'd just briefly caught the mournful call of a netch on the light morning breeze. He couldn't quite tell how far off it might have been. Only that it seemed to be coming from somewhere off toward the south-eastern part of that vale.

Before long, the road drifted away from the marshes and continued up over a low hillside to the east. Though he'd seen no one else along the way that morning, noting the regularity of both dried and fairly fresh guar shit along the path, it seemed obvious enough that the road between Mournhold and Ald Mire was well travelled.

After cresting the rise of that hill, the road descended the gentle slope in a fairly straight line to the north-east. It soon came to a stone bridge crossing over the last stretch of the Korgathi, where it struggled northward to rejoin the waters of the Loqueach. Looking off in that direction, he could see where the waterway headed for the main river, but he couldn't quite tell whether it actually reached. The relatively still waters seemed to indicate that it wasn't actually flowing, or else only in a barely noticeable manner.

Further north of the road and out across the waters of the Loqueach, the stone walls and towers of Tal'Deic Fortress could be seen, rising from that island. He still held no clear idea of what was there, or whether it was even occupied. He understood that the Imperial Legion had people stationed there a long time ago, but that would no longer be the case. As far as he knew, there wouldn't have even been anything like that back before the Argonians came rampaging into Morrowind. He supposed that House Redoran or House Indoril might have taken interest in the place during recent decades, but he didn't really know if that was the case.

With the road again climbing to higher elevation, from what he could see of the waters about that island, Suvaris thought that the river seemed substantial enough to accommodate shipping of some description. However, he inwardly conceded that he couldn't really tell how deep those waters might be. Added to that, it was also fair to presume that there was a narrow or shallow section of the Loqueach beyond his view that could have prevented shipping from reaching that far.

The rise of the hills above the left-hand side of the road soon obscured his northward view. Only gently winding, the road continued eastward. Suvaris observed another couple of still ponds near a slight bend in the road. He was just momentarily distracted as he noticed a pair of wild scuttlers with a clutch of younglings by the edge of one pond. Returning his full attention to the path ahead, he observed a pair of strangers coming along toward him. Both were male Dunmer carrying large loads upon their backs. They had no guar or other pack animals, or even a pushcart.

Of course, he soon learned that were travelling traders headed for Mournhold. They seemed quite friendly, but not all that talkative. They appeared to recognise easily enough that Suvaris couldn't have been from around that region and so didn't seem particularly motivated to ask him anything of the road behind him. They merely advised him that he was not far from Ald Mire and should expect to be there before long.

Just as the traders had suggested, it wasn't all that long before the small township came into view ahead. At a sharp bend in the road, by some tall trees and a cluster of emperor parasol, the rooves of several structures appeared. The main road turned toward the north at that point. One of the signs indicated that it led to the Tal'Deic Fortress. The lesser road branching off at the bend went straight ahead into the small town.

There were a few modest houses at the western edge of Ald Mire. A large pen full of bantam guar was at the side of one place. Behind some other structures, there were some small crop fields with scrib cabbage, wickwheat and a few other things growing there, with much of it looking near ready for harvest.

Passing by a few houses, which looked not so different from what he'd observed back at Selfora, Suvaris came to what appeared to be the town centre. There were a few more residential structures there, which appeared of a similar styling, but notably larger. A moderate sized inn stood between some small trader stores. Across the other side of the street, he spotted a blacksmith's and a few outdoor trader stalls. Beyond the houses over at the eastern side of town, there were a couple of large ponds and irrigated fields of saltrice.

It wasn't until he turned his gaze toward the north that he spotted what he was probably looking for. A well worn path led from the town centre toward a small peninsular of land jutting out into the river. There were a handful of sizeable structures just near some sturdy timber piers, where an unexpectedly large vessel was docked.

Presumably, that's where Suvaris would expect to find that dock master, so rather than asking around at all, he made his way directly for that location.

Heading toward the docks, he observed that the vessel at port was even a little larger than he firstly thought. The ship appeared to be a full sized sea-going cargo vessel. He'd actually expected that only lesser-sized ships would come that far up river. He supposed that might explain why they didn't go any further westward than that port.

Looking out along the Loqueach, the river did look quite broad and deep heading eastward. Though he'd never before been that far, he understood that the river eventually spilled into the great Padomaic Ocean. After a fashion, aside from the steep rocky banks at either side of the waterway, it did put him in mind of the stretch of the Niben between the Imperial City and Bravil.

Approaching the warehouses near the docks, he caught sight of two flat river barges tied up by the docks. Presumably, those were the barges utilised to ferry cargo along the shallow stretches of the river. The same barges that he expected that Travlon had been working with during recent times.

Along the docks, several workers appeared busy with loading barrels and crates of cargo onto the vessel. Evidently, it was likely that that the ship was being readied for departure.

Suvaris returned his attention to the large structures set back from the docks. He observed that one building was actually another inn. The other buildings seemed to be the warehouses he was looking for. Fortunately, the signage pointed toward the place where he expected to find the dock master.

* * *

Suvaris stepped into the trade warehouse and looked about. Despite all the activity outside, or perhaps because of it, the placed seemed unexpectedly quiet inside. He was just beginning to wonder if anyone was in there, when a wiry Dunmer with reddish-brown hair cropped short slowly popped up from behind a large crate.

The other Dunmer wasn't young or notably elderly. He seemed most likely somewhere around his middling years. However, the patchy bristles on his craggy face somehow made him appear a little older. He glared at Suvaris through hooded red eyes for an extended moment before speaking in a typically clipped local accent. "Wotcha lookin' for?"

Suvaris maintained a neutral expression and tone. "I'm looking for the dock master."

"Ya found him. Wotcha want?"

Recognising the other Dunmer's direct manner, Suvaris elected to get straight to the point. "Well, I'm actually here looking for a Travlon Suvaris."

"Travlon… Suvaris." The dock master said the name slowly, as though he was giving it some measure of thought. He idly stacked some papers and piled them on the open ledger he'd set down upon a crate. "Travlon Suvaris, ya say? So, why's that then?"

Suvaris responded with a subtle bow of his head. "My name is Alaron Suvaris, formerly of Kragenmoor's Fighters Guild."

The other Dunmer closed the ledger to keep the loose papers from going anywhere. "Kragenmoor? Heard there ain't no Fighters Guild over there no more."

"No, not for some time. I've been serving with Cheydinhal for many years."

The other Dunmer shrugged, then affected a frown. "Yer name's Suvaris, ya say?"

Suvaris returned a nod. "That's correct. I have reason to believe that Travlon might possibly be my brother's grandson."

"Might be? Ya mean ya don't know?"

"No. That's what I trying to learn."

With a grimace, the dock master nodded. "Yeah, righto then. I know a Travlon Suvaris. Younger fella." He paused with a frown. "Y'know, reckon there might be just a bit of family resemblance."

"Do you know where I might find him?"

"He ain't workin' the barges no more, but I know what he's been upta."

Suvaris' silent expression prompted for something more.

"Done a coupla short run runs up an' down the river on the bigger ships, ta get hisself some better paid work."

"So, where is he now?"

"Yer shit outa luck. He's just gone off again. Went off on the Anticlere Flyer, just yesterday afternoon."

Suvaris expression seemed to convey some confusion. In truth, he was feeling perhaps more annoyed than confused.

"Anticlere Flyer's a long haul cargo ship." The other Dunmer gained the impression that Suvaris wasn't quite taking his meaning. "Won't be back for a bit. Long haul ships like that, mean to be goin' all the way around."

"Around?"

"Around Tamriel, acourse. The Flyer ain't gonna be back this way for weeks. Maybe seven or eight, if there ain't no trouble or major hold up along the way. Could be longer."

Suvaris released a heavy sigh. It seemed that he'd come all that way and gained some confirmation that the younger Travlon could well be who he thought he might be, only to miss him by just one day.

"The Zamsar oughta be heading off real soon. That's the last one from here for the season. Ain't no one goin' across the top once the winter sets in proper."

Without saying anything, Suvaris reasonably assumed that he was referring to that vessel outside by the docks.

The dock master resumed. "Y'know, them ships usually end up at the same ports often enough, settin' off just a day apart like that. If they don't catch up at Blacklight or Windhelm, then maybe at Solitude or over on Iliac Bay."

Considering the implied suggestion, Suvaris raised his eyebrows. "I ah… I do understand that it is due to depart soon, but… is it at all possible to secure passage on the ah… on that vessel at port?"

With pursed lips, the dock master shook his head. "Zamsar ain't takin' on no general passengers. Strictly dealin' cargo." He hesitated a moment with furrowed brow. "Don't s'pose yer any good with frost magic?"

Suvaris tilted his head. "Well, I do have some training and skill with…"

The other Dunmer cut him off. "Ain't sayin' it'll do ya any good, but I hear that there might be a need of an icer on that ship. I hear that the Zamsar ain't got no proper icer for the perishables. Only one of them riggers pulling double duty, or the like."

"I don't know if I would be…"

The dock master cut him off again. "Ain't got no time ta be yappin' about it. If ya wanna see about gettin' on the Zamsar, ya better getcha arse over there right now an' talk ta the ship's bosun. Like I said, dunno it'll do ya any good, but ya ain't gonna know if ya don't go."

Suvaris returned a brief offering of thanks then quickly departed the warehouse to head over to the vessel at the docks.

* * *

Marching toward the busy docks, Suvaris still wasn't convinced of his precise intent or even the wisdom of any further pursuit of the matter at that time. Aside from any of that, he didn't know whether it even mattered what he wanted to do next. He'd already accepted that there might well be no opportunity to be considered. Before he became too buried in thought, his attention was shifted toward negotiating a path through and around the movement of cargo onto the vessel.

A well-dressed Redguard man speaking with one of the sailors on the deck of the vessel drew his passing attention. Though he couldn't be certain, he thought that he looked like the same one he'd spotted back at Mournhold's western gate that first evening he'd arrived there and then briefly seen him again inside the Winged Guar. Before he'd managed to acquire a proper look at him, the Redguard had headed below deck.

The man that the Redguard had been speaking with was an Imperial man of swarthy appearance, with a dark beard and dark eyes. He'd evidently noticed Suvaris' approach and narrowed his eyes with suspicion as he came to lean over the rail on the port side of the deck.

"Hoy, what are you up to?"

Suvaris recognised that the query was directed at him. Avoiding the workers loading cargo, he stepped a little closer toward the man glaring at him. "I just came from the dock master at the warehouse. I'm looking for the ship's bosun."

"Yeah? Why's that then?"

"The dock master suggested that the Zamsar might be looking for… for an icer."

The Imperial continued to glare for a lengthy moment. "Maybe. Depends. You any good with frost magic?"

"I do have some training and adequate skill with frost spells."

"You don't look to me like you're in need of work." The Imperial man had evidently taken measure of Suvaris' expensive looking armour and equipment, along with his general manner.

Suvaris tilted his head slightly. "Well no, not as such. However, I was hoping to look into the possibility of securing passage on the Zamsar."

The Imperial didn't appear immediately swayed. "Zamsar's a cargo vessel. Ain't taking on general passengers."

"So I was told. However, I can offer my services… as an icer."

"You don't look like no sailor or the like. You with any kind of guild?"

"Alaron Suvaris, of the Cheydinhal's Fighters Guild."

The Imperial frowned. "Fighters Guild? Ain't what I meant, but I could probably make that work… if you're willing to do the work, that is."

Suvaris inwardly sighed, considering what he was about to agree to. After a moment's hesitation, he indicated his willingness to serve as an icer in exchange for passage on the vessel. The Imperial man then formally identified himself the Zamsar's bosun, without actually offering his name. He called Suvaris up onto the desk to discuss things further.

The bosun wanted to know why Suvaris was after passage on the vessel before considering committing to any agreement. As briefly as possible, Suvaris explained that he'd been searching for a relative who had just departed upon the Anticlere Flyer the day before. He then further explained that he'd been advised that both vessels were likely to dock at the same port somewhere along the journey.

Suvaris suggested that since he was effectively at liberty for an extended period, barring anything unexpected, he expected that he should be able to remain with the vessel all the way back to Cyrodiil. However, once he was back in the Imperial Province, he anticipated returning to Cheydinhal and his Fighters Guild duties.

The bosun seemed reasonably convinced by what he'd heard and he seemed to find it all fairly acceptable. After mulling it over for a further moment, he advised that he thought it would be fine with Captain Cirroc, but he would be expecting Suvaris to sign his name to a work contract. After already taking it all that far, with some lingering reservation, Suvaris was also ready to consent to the arrangement.

Noting the Yokudan sounding name of the vessel's captain, Suvaris again thought of that Redguard he'd seen on the deck with the bosun. "That Redguard man I saw you speaking with… was that Captain Cirroc?"

The bosun returned an odd expression. "Redguard? No, that was Jellan. He's a wine merchant."

Suvaris' looked confused. "I thought that there were no passengers on the Zamsar."

"No 'general' passengers. Jellan's a friend of the Captain. Got a special arrangement for travelling with his cargo. Ain't none of your concern."

"Understood."

"Soon as the last of the cargo is secured aboard, we sail with the turn of the tide."

Suvaris looked confused again. As near as he could tell, the waters seemed relatively still. At the most, it seemed that the river might be just flowing very slowly eastward.

The bosun anticipated what he was probably thinking. "The tides don't actually turn this far upriver. Just backs up from the high tide downstream. Pretty soon, the outbound tide will set to flowing out to the east again."

Suvaris silently accepted the explanation.

The bosun turned and called out to a younger Breton lad on the deck, waving him over. Once the lad with the wispy stubble and messy brown hair was near, he pointed him to Suvaris. "This Dunmer's our new icer for this run. Just show him down below and find him a berth. Actually, put him with Adras." The bosun turned back to Suvaris. "Once we get under way, I'll have Adras come find you and take you down to the hold to show what needs to be done."

"Understood." Since the bosun had glanced up to the rigging as he mentioned someone named Adras, Suvaris took that to be the name of the other individual serving as an icer. Presumably, he was one of those climbing up there at that moment.

At the bosun's signal, the younger lad guided Suvaris toward the entryway near the aft of the Zamsar to take him down below deck.

* * *

Along the way, the Breton lad introduced himself as Daric. Sounding like he'd done it many times before, he'd recited some of the general rules of the ship as they made their way through below deck. Among other things, he told Suvaris that Captain Cirroc was to be left alone unless otherwise instructed. Without exception, all problems or the like were to go to the bosun. Daric pointed out the ship's mess as they passed by and provided instructions for where to find the washroom and lavatory facilities.

Eventually, Suvaris was led to a doorway toward the bow of the vessel, just one deck below. Daric advised him that the tiny cabin on the port side was where he'd be bunking and then left him there.

Suvaris looked to the cramped space with a measure of displeasure. There were two rudimentary bunks set one above the other up against the hull. Doors in the wall appeared to represent some sort of storage. The iron padlock over the handle indicated that it looked to be some sort of secure lockup. Evidently, there was really no room for anything other than sleeping in there and it hardly looked so appealing even for that purpose.

Since he'd been told to wait for that Adras, he set down his travelling pack and helmet and sat down upon the lower bunk to wait. There really wasn't any space for much of anything else.

After a moment of listening to the noises coming from above deck, Suvaris released a heavy sigh. He'd not even gone anywhere yet and he was already questioning the sense of agreeing to travel upon that vessel. Though he remained tenuously confident of making contact with Travlon at some point, it seemed that he was certainly taking the longest possible way back to Cheydinhal. Trying to make the estimate in his mind, he thought that he might still make it to the Imperial City in time for the Emperor's Day festivities. Though it was really too far off to think of that as a certainty.

After a while, the noises coming down from above seemed to change from banging and shouting to something a little different. The sounds shifted to altered banging noises, along with creaking and shouting and Suvaris soon felt the vessel rolling and moving beneath him, indicating that it was leaving the docks. He resolved himself to the circumstance that he'd probably be waiting for a while. Without any enthusiasm, he also resolved himself to the notion that he'd be doing quite a lot of that over the days to come.

* * *

At least a half-hour had passed by since Suvaris had observed that the Zamsar must have been leaving Ald Mire. No one had come near that tiny cabin during that period. Since he'd been told to wait there for someone to arrive and provide further instruction, that's what he did.

Finally, he heard somebody walking down corridor just outside. A Dunmer of perhaps a couple of decades fewer than Suvaris appeared in the doorway. His appearance actually seemed vaguely familiar, though Suvaris couldn't make an immediate connection.

"You must be the fella that bosun said is gonna be frostin' the cargo with me?"

Suvaris stood up. "That I am. Alaron Suvaris. Pleased to meet you."

The other Dunmer wiped his hand before extending it in greeting. "Ah yeah, apologies. Adras, Adras Rurvyn."

Taking the other Dunmer's hand, Suvaris raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Adras, are you at all related to Faryl and Dravyn Rurvyn?"

"Faryl? From up Blacklight way? Faryl an' Dravyn an' ah… Gralys, up on that farm?"

Suvaris returned a silent nod of confirmation. He'd actually forgotten the name of the other brother, having heard it only the once.

"Yeah, sorta. Must be ah… second cousins or somethin' like that. Me grandpa was their grandpa's brother. Ain't seen 'em since we was young."

Keeping it quite brief, Suvaris explained his recent association with Faryl and Dravyn and the nature of their current trading enterprise. Only to maintain that brevity, he added that he understood that the other brother still worked the old farmland, but he knew no more than that.

Soon enough, Suvaris' travelling pack, helmet and gauntlets had been stashed away in the tiny cabin's rudimentary lockup. After that, Adras was leading Suvaris around and down to the Zamsar's cargo hold.

The other Dunmer seemed observably relieved that he wasn't going to be the only icer on the voyage. He'd openly conceded that he didn't think he could summon enough magicka to manage much longer on his own. He said that they'd lost the last proper icer back in Cyrodiil and he'd been struggling to handle the load during the last part of the voyage around the Argonian coast.

Adras understood that they were meant to be picking up another icer at one of the next major ports, but he was really glad that it turned out to be sooner rather than later.

The sailor guided Suvaris through what he needed to know. There were two relevant sections of cargo for them to worry about and everything else was to be left alone.

One section only required light chilling. That meant keeping it cold, but not frozen. It was mostly fruits and vegetables, but the crates of kwama eggs required special attention. As Adras had been reminded many times, they were never to be frozen and never to be allowed to get warm.

The other section of cargo that was their concern had to be kept as cold as reasonably possible. That meant keeping it frozen or close to that state. Adras advised that the cool of the hull below the waterline kept a lot of the warmth away, but he still needed tend to that cargo two to four times a day and it took quite a lot out of him.

Once Suvaris had demonstrated his competency at the task and everything was in order, they departed the cargo hold, confident that it was sorted for the time being.

* * *

Later in the afternoon, Suvaris eventually found himself up on the main deck of the Zamsar, once Adras had advised that it would be okay for him to be up there. He also needed to be made aware of certain restrictions, to ensure that he didn't get in the way.

He'd noted that the Zamsar was sailing only under minimal sail, relying more upon the outgoing tide to carry the vessel forward down the Loqueach.

Gazing out along the river, he'd observed that the broad river had narrowed significantly since departing that stretch just east of Ald Mire. From what he could see, the waters certainly seemed deep enough, but the rugged embankments along either side seemed to encroach uncomfortably at certain points.

Adras had casually mentioned that the river became narrow at various parts to the east, until nearing the ocean by the small port of Bosmora. He'd also mentioned that because of that, they'd be anchoring during the hours of darkness at a safe point down river, then setting off again with the first light.

Even with his duties to attend in the cargo hold, Suvaris anticipated many days of bleak tedium ahead. He found himself looking forward to the prospect of making the next port and then hopefully catching up with the Anticlere Flyer at one those other ports afterward.

~O~


	18. Chapter 18

Winds of the Ashfall: An Elder Scrolls Tale

Greg J Miller

~O~

Chapter 18

Fredas the 9th of Hearthfire 4E71

Perhaps more out of habit than necessity, Alaron Suvaris again rose early that morning. It was fair to say that sleeping upon that uncomfortable bunk in that tiny cabin was a contributing motivation. For other reasons at hand, he didn't really need to worry so much about his icing duties that morning. Even so, despite what Adras Rurvyn thought, he made a point of going to check those sections of the cargo hold anyway. If nothing else, it meant getting out and about and seeing what was going on.

Though there'd been some anxiety evident amongst some of the crew, the Zamsar managed to make port the previous evening under somewhat rough conditions with another storm chasing along behind them. With the distinct chill on the air, it had made his icing duties with the cargo much less of a challenge when he attended the task that evening.

With the current conditions of the northern sea, Suvaris had been quietly hoping that he might learn that the other vessel was still at Windhelm when they arrived. However, despite the variable circumstances, it passed that the Anticlere Flyer remained just one day ahead of the movements of the Zamsar, having departed that port the day before. The same thing had more or less occurred back at Blacklight.

Suvaris was hoping that there wouldn't be too much delay before the Zamsar was back at sea again, but that was certainly starting to look doubtful. Though there was nothing that he could do about any of it, he still found it frustrating. He was hoping that it would not turn out that the two vessels never managed to connect during the voyage ahead. Again, there was nothing he could do about it, but hope for the best.

On the previous Fredas when he'd firstly boarded the Zamsar, he'd possibly not really considered that it could take the better part of a week just to be departing Blacklight once again. After the passing of the full seven days, he finally found himself at the Nordic city of Windhelm, anxiously awaiting the resumption of the long voyage ahead.

The past week had been generally as tedious as he'd anticipated. His time had been mostly occupied with the repeating cycles of eating, sleeping and tending to icing duties in the cargo hold, with some idle time in between those activities. Before making port at Blacklight, Suvaris had already finished with those books in his possession and has grown anxious to acquire something more to read. He'd finished that fictitious pirate story, then gone on to read that other book that turned out to be a tragic tale of two lovers from rival families, set in second era Daggerfall. Only out of boredom, he'd even gone back to again look at that other book about the post-Tribunal era of Morrowind.

The very first days of the voyage from the Mournhold region had passed relatively easily, with no real concerns until the vessel was travelling westward across the northern Sea of Ghosts. By Suvaris' recollection, though relatively peaceful, that first part of the run seemed notably slow and tedious.

A week before arriving at Windhelm, the cargo vessel left port and set off down the river from Ald Mire, not long after noon on that previous Fredas. During that evening, the vessel anchored at a relatively broad stretch of the Loqueach to wait out the hours of darkness, then set off again at the very first light of the day.

It had been fairly slow going down the river that day. As he'd heard, with so many potential hazards along that waterway, it was not safe for larger vessels to travel under full sail down the Loqueach. Even with the tide against them, only minimal sail was deployed. Sails were utilised even more sparingly when the outgoing tide was in their favour.

In fading daylight, the Zamsar eventually made port at Bosmora fairly late on Loredas. There hadn't been much cargo at all to be unloaded or loaded at that small town. The only reason for stopping there appeared to be a matter of the convenience of the location, situated fairly near the bay at the mouth of the river.

After waiting out the hours of darkness on Loredas evening, the ship then set out again at first light on Sundas. Soon enough, the Zamsar was out in the open waters of the Padomaic Ocean. Once clear of the eastern coast, there had been three days of uninterrupted sailing around Morrowind to reach the next destination.

Suvaris soon learned that those long haul vessels didn't stop at every port along the way. Local vessels handled most of the shipping between those other ports. All major seagoing import and export tended to be converged upon the two remaining locations of relevance.

Of course, the only reason that the ships even came to Ald Mire, was because it was still regarded as Mournhold's port and there was still some call for valued trade in and out of that place. Aside from Morrowind's former capital, the only other port of interest for long haul trade vessels was its current capital, Blacklight. In fact with each passing year, more trade passed through Blacklight than Mournhold. If not for some of the produce of the more fertile and bountiful Deshaan region, Mournhold might have been overlooked altogether. He'd been told that some other vessels of that kind didn't even bother with it any more.

The Zamsar was just clearing the north of the Telvanni Islands at the end of the second day. Venturing up on deck, Suvaris had observed that Red Mountain had resumed billowing dark clouds into the skies. He thought it might represent a cause for alarm. However, though a menacing haze filled the sky north of Vvardenfell, there was no rain of hot ash. Only a light fall of dark soot was evident. Though the sailors remained confident of the circumstances, having seen it many times before, Suvaris still felt rather less than assured.

In conversation with Adras that evening, Suvaris had learned that some parts of Vvardenfell were not quite as completely abandoned as he'd believed. He'd previously thought that there was no one over there but a handful of surviving Ashlanders somewhere in the north-east, who'd returned to the isle immediately after those earlier disasters.

Adras hadn't claimed to know everything, but he understood that there were Dunmer again living at Balmora. He'd heard that the place was but a pale shadow of the booming centre it had become during the times before the disasters. Even so, he believed that it was probably the largest centre of the island. He also mentioned that kwama egg mines around Gnisis kept that place in business. A lot of the kwama egg shipments to Blacklight came from that place. He said that he'd only been there twice and there weren't a lot of people living there. He'd also mentioned that those kinds of dust masks that his cousin had been trading were originally developed for the Dunmer living at those few remaining settlements upon Vvardenfell.

On the third day of the voyage, because of the dark ash-cloud mingling with the regular cloud of the skies, the crew had not been immediately aware of a building storm racing in behind them from the north-east. By the time that it became obvious, it was something of a race to make port before the storm was upon them. As it passed, the Zamsar only just made Blacklight ahead of that storm on Tirdas evening. Though the dark clouds looked quite threatening, it turned out to be relatively mild as northern storms go. The wind and rough seas were not nearly as bad as it could have been, or least that was what Adras assured him. Even so, the storm brought heavy rains when it arrived, with more of that behind it. What came down after the main storm was not nearly as heavy, but it was not passing so quickly. The persistent rain coming down on Middas delayed the vessel at port that day.

From what Suvaris had heard, the exchange of cargo had taken three times longer than normal in the inclement weather. Even once that was done, the Zamsar still wasn't going anywhere until there was some confidence that reasonably fair weather was on the way.

The torrents washing down through the streets of Blacklight carried accumulated soot down toward the waters of the bay in dark rivulets. A little further up from the docks, some silty mud had also been washed down from further uphill and made the streets notably slippery and treacherous. It seemed that the downpour might have been even heavier than the persistent rain of a few weeks earlier. Or perhaps, it had just been much heavier rain over a shorter period.

It wasn't until late in the day on Middas that the rain finally eased to sporadic showers, providing some indication that it might clear by the next morning.

Despite his annoyance over the circumstances, Suvaris did have the opportunity to address one thing. He managed to take advantage of the brief delay at port, taking time to head up to the Blacklight marketplace and acquire more books to read. At the least, that provided him with something to alleviate some of the boredom of the days ahead.

Fortunately, the weather did actually clear overnight, revealing a far more promising outlook with the dawn on Turdas. Accordingly, the Zamsar departed Blacklight very early that morning, sailing westward for Windhelm.

With quite favourable winds, there'd been fair expectation of arriving at Windhelm later in the day or in the early evening. The path between those two ports was fairly open for most of the way, allowing for a day under full sail, weather conditions permitting.

It had been just as the mouth of the White River came into distant view that another incoming storm was sighted. That one had presented as a low cloudbank coming in directly from the north. Ahead of the storm, came a lot more gusty wind and even rougher seas.

Though Suvaris remained below deck at the time, he'd heard that it had been quite treacherous entering the mouth of the White River. The crew struggled to keep the vessel well clear of either side of the bay, while especially trying to avoid the large rocky outcrop near the entrance of the mouth of the river.

From what he'd been told, even with the summer only just ended, the threat from bodies of ice in the bay also remained a serious danger. Not only were they racing the storm, they also needed to make it through before running out of daylight. Any collision with an ice drift could have been the end of the vessel.

The waters had been only slightly calmer along the northernmost stretch of river, but with the storm bearing down on them, they needed to press on for safe harbour. At the least, navigating those waters was notably less dangerous than what was behind.

It was dark by the time they finally made port at the Windhelm docks and the storm was fully upon them by then. Fortunately, the winds at port had been notably less virulent than those gusts ahead of the storm, and seemingly less destructive. Of course, it may have been more the case that the tall walls of Windhelm shielded the docks from the worst of it.

Unlike that other storm that reached Blacklight late on Tirdas, providing further lasting effects throughout most of Middas, there was no heavy downpour of rain coming down over Windhelm. It instead brought an icy wind blown sleet. It didn't seem really so heavy, but it remained quite steady.

Soon enough, Suvaris learned that the Zamsar wasn't going to be leaving port during that Fredas. The exchange of cargo still took place during the morning, but took much longer than seemed typical. That driven sleet persisted without pause throughout the earlier part of the day.

During a brief visit up on deck, Suvaris observed the rather limited visibility beneath the grim gray skies. He could only just barely make out the shadows of the riverbanks over the far side of the White River and a tall stone bridge just to the west of the docks, crossing over the river from the city.

Looking up from the aft of the vessel, he could tell that there were mountains of a sort rising up behind the walled city, but he could make out no detail through the sleet. He imagined that it served to protect Windhelm from the worst of whatever the northern skies hurled toward the south from the seas.

After attending to his icing duties in the cargo hold, which hardly seemed so necessary in the circumstances, the remainder of the day was effectively his own. He'd been advised that he could go off into the city if he wanted, so long as he was back on the Zamsar by nine bells. The bosun was still firm about being able to make a proper head count on the evening before leaving port.

Of course, the ship wasn't going anywhere before the next morning and even that was yet to be established as certainty. It would all depend upon the weather. In either case, the captain still wanted the ship ready to head out at short notice.

Despite the inclement weather outside, given the cramped conditions upon the Zamsar, Suvaris decided that a good walk about the Nordic city seemed a potentially engaging diversion for the afternoon. Though he'd often enough heard of the place from various Nord acquaintances, and even read some detail of it in various texts, he'd never actually been there before. Mostly, he just felt the need to stretch his legs while the opportunity was at hand.

* * *

By the early afternoon, the wind driven sleet had finally eased to flaky snowfall over the docks. Though somewhat less dismal and oppressive than the sleet, the wind blown icy flakes remained persistent as Suvaris made his way for the lower city gate above the docks.

The icy chill on the air easily put him in mind of winter in Bruma. He was not really so used to that kind of weather on a regular basis. Though winter in Cheydinhal could be cold, it was a rare thing to see sleet or snow about that city. It generally didn't even seem a possibility, except right in the middle of the coldest months. Of course, such cold winters were even more rare throughout most parts of Morrowind. Given that it was only a week past the end of summer, he found it extraordinary what the Nords of northern Skyrim must endure each season.

From his brief times above deck earlier in the day, Suvaris had observed a number of Argonian workers about the Windhelm docks. Aside from just the two of them huddled by a smouldering brazier near the stone wall at that moment, it seemed that the others he'd previously seen had retreated to the dockside trade warehouses or the like.

He'd heard that the Argonians working there were not permitted within the city proper. From what he'd been told, the current Jarl of Windhelm only barely tolerated their presence down by the docks and no more than that. Apparently, it was much the same with Khajiiti traders who had to set up their trade caravans outside, by the bridge over the river. In light of all that, he remained mildly surprised that his fellow Dunmer were not treated in quite the same manner.

Though that kind of thing would hardly be openly tolerated back in Cyrodiil, it would still be fair to note that neither the Argonians nor the Khajiit were really so well embraced by many Imperials. Even so, they were not barred from the cities as a matter of course.

As he understood it, the Nords of Windhelm were openly contemptuous of each of the merish races, perhaps only holding some greater measure of begrudging respect for Orcish warriors. Even so, the mer were not denied access to the city. It could also be noted that even the humans of other provinces seemed to be held in somewhat low regard by supposed true Nords of the 'first hold'. Though Suvaris found it just a little difficult to recognise the reasoning, it seemed that the Nords of Skyrim's Eastmarch were easily as intolerant of outsiders as the native Dunmer of his homeland. He supposed that it had become a matter of habit of some longstanding, born of regional pride. In that regard at least, it seemed the peoples upon either side of the Velothi Mountains were more alike than each of them might like to think.

Leaving the open area about the docks, Suvaris ascended the stone steps up toward the lower city gate. Between the stone walls of that path, some of the inclement weather was just barely kept at bay. Some of the driven snowfall still fell down from above and he needed to take care with his footing on the slippery stone. No one else seemed to be about at that particular moment. Given the state of the weather, it hardly seemed surprising.

Upon reaching the heavy gate up above, he noticed a Windhelm city guard standing huddled against the stone wall by a smouldering brazier. The guard glanced toward Suvaris only briefly with his full-faced helmet. "Gray Quarter's off to your right." The Nord immediately turned back to the fire without further consideration.

Given that the guard seemed overtly disinterested, Suvaris offered no response and instead continued onward through the partly open gate into the walled city. Of course, he was reasonably aware of what the guard meant by his comment. It wasn't really advice offered in the spirit of helpfulness, but more out of casual contempt.

Suvaris recalled that the north-eastern section of Windhelm had once been known as the 'Snow Quarter'. However, some time after a number of Dunmer had come to that city, following the events upon Vvardenfell many decades before, it came to be known by that other name. By and large, though they might to free to work in other parts of Windhelm, most Dunmer living within the city walls were firmly encouraged to reside only in that area above the docks dubbed as the Gray Quarter. Of course, the name had nothing to do with the drab gray stone walls. It was all about the local Nords' condescending reference to Dunmer as 'Gray-skins'.

Though he could see nothing of it from the docks earlier that day, Suvaris understood that several Dunmer had settled to run farms just across the other side of the White River. That land was effectively close enough to the city for reasonable convenience. Presumably, he expected that those farmlands may have been a preferable alternative to living in Windhelm's Gray Quarter. Still, he couldn't imagine what they farmed in such adverse conditions.

Proceeding beyond the gate, only out of idle curiosity, Suvaris did choose to turn to the right to see for himself what the Gray Quarter of Windhelm was all about. Just as he'd started along the path, a couple of younger Dunmer children dashed by in a great hurry and headed off down the narrow street in that direction. They hadn't paid him any mind at all. They'd disappeared around the left corner long before he was anywhere near enough to see where they were headed.

Though it hardly seemed any warmer than outside the city, Suvaris did note that the tall stone walls blocked most of the harsh winds. Perhaps only because that street was so narrow and the walls so tall, more of what was falling from the skies was caught by the rooftops and parapets, rather than making it down to the ground.

He observed a number of crude wooden doors along the stone walls, representing places of residence. Only a few featured signs affixed with Dunmeri family names, others remained completely unmarked. Though he couldn't determine what might be inside with any certainty, he imagined that no one in that part of the city enjoyed a life of luxury.

A little further along, he spotted a small general store near a corner in the narrow street. The name on the weathered sign swinging in the wind implied that the place was owned or run by a Dunmer. At another doglegged corner, a sign indicated a tavern or inn behind a shabby timber door. Given that the corner-club was named for a place on Vvardenfell, it was obviously another place specifically for local Dunmer. He briefly observed a sure-footed local Dunmer dashing along the cobbled street, who quickly disappeared into the tavern. The streets again appeared otherwise deserted.

Some more residences with doors set into the wall appeared along the crooked street as it made it way back toward the west and gradually upward. They appeared no different than those he'd observed before them. Eventually, the path delivered Suvaris up to a large and relatively open space set above the Gray Quarter.

Looking over to his right, he noted an archway though a heavy stone wall. A pair of helmeted guards stood huddled in the archway by another smouldering brazier. Suvaris surmised that the large stone structure beyond must have been the historic 'Palace of the Kings'. Both of the Windhelm guards appeared to glare in his direction. He expected that even a notably well-dressed Dunmer was not welcome in the palace grounds without proper business at hand. He held no desire to test that presumption.

Toward his left, Suvaris observed a large long-house of stone and timber dominating the central space of the city. It seemed of typical Nord design, not unlike some of what he'd seen in Bruma. He quickly realised that it was the large tavern and inn he'd heard previously mentioned.

Turning about, he noticed that there were a few other Nordic styled residences perched up above the Gray Quarter. Each of those structures appeared quite old and weathered, like much of what he'd seen of the city thus far. Given that Windhelm was the oldest Nord city of Skyrim, he supposed that it should not have come as any surprise.

Overall, he'd noted that most of the structures evidently occupied by Nords didn't appear really so much better than what he'd observed down in the Gray Quarter. The Nordic homes certainly seemed somewhat larger from the outside, but otherwise didn't declare any outward affluence.

Suvaris understood that the main marketplace of Windhelm was located over in the south-western corner and that the north-western corner was another residential quarter. He decided that he might as well go visit the markets while he was out and about.

Heading down another narrow cobbled path south of the large tavern, he could hear the noises of hammer upon anvil, indicating that in spite of the adverse weather, Windhelm's blacksmiths were still hard at work.

The marketplace appeared rather smaller than he'd been expecting. It seemed that only a few of the stores were inside enclosed structures, with more of it represented by open stalls with rather basic canopies that only barely covered the counters and the shopkeeps. In defiance of the conditions, the blacksmiths by the forge were working out in the open. Only a couple of people were in the marketplace seeking trade at the stalls.

The heavy-set Nord blacksmith working upon shaping a long blade caught Suvaris' attention. Pausing his work for a moment, the Nord seemed to be looking him over with furrowed brow. It wasn't immediately evident whether it was a look of contempt or whether the smith was taking some interest in the ebony ensemble he was wearing.

"Suvaris." A vaguely familiar voice called out.

Suvaris was somewhat surprised to see Faryl Rurvyn walking in his direction.

The travelling trader affected a crooked grin. "Weren't expectin' to be findin' ya over here in this place."

Suvaris returned a courteous nod. "Faryl. I cannot say that I was really expecting to see you here either."

Faryl shrugged. "Yeah well, when we got back up Blacklight way, we found out that Gralys had that harvest ready at the farm. So we pretty much headed straight out for the mountain pass with our guar all loaded up. Only just made it here last night ahead of all this mess." He looked up to the grim skies overhead.

Suvaris responded with an expression of affirmation. "Yes, it would seem that the Skyrim weather is not at all pleasant at this time."

"From what I hear, it ain't all that much better when it's not like this." Faryl's expression shifted. "Ya have any luck findin' that young relative of yours?"

Suvaris went to briefly explain his current circumstances and his hopes for catching up with that other vessel.

Faryl shook his head. "Sounds like it ain't easy. Leastways, ya know that Travlon Suvaris must be out there, even if ya ain't yet sure he's who ya think he might be."

Suvaris nodded with a grimace. "Yes, so it seems. If I can manage to catch up with him, then perhaps I will find out."

"Yeah well, I wish ya luck with that."

"I appreciate the sentiment." Suvaris nodded, then shifted tone. "Oh, I've run into another cousin of yours… on the Zamsar. His name is Adras. Adras Rurvyn."

"Adras? Ain't seen him since we was just young lads. Not since his old man took the family off to the east. Heard his father was plannin' to work kwama mines, but ended up workin' with offshore fishermen in the eastern sea. S'pose it ain't no big surprise that Adras ended up workin' shippin' then." Faryl paused with a dry chuckle.

Suvaris resumed. "Adras hadn't told me anything of his immediate family. Only that his grandfather and yours were brothers. I believe that he's on the ship at this moment. He said that he wasn't planning on going out while the weather was like this. There's a good chance that we'll be setting sail in the morning, weather permitting. So in all likelihood, by tomorrow we'll be at sea again."

Faryl shook his head again, with a slightly pained expression. "If we had more time, I'd be lookin' ta go down an' see him. Just closed a trade deal in the market. Trader says he'll take everything we got, if we can get it all back here before the end of the day. I gotta get back to Dravyn an' Bradyn and make that happen."

Suvaris nodded. "I understand. I will make a point of passing on your regards when I speak with him later."

Faryl nodded his appreciation. "Yeah, that'd be good of ya. No tellin' where me and Dravyn will be at any given time, but ya can tell him that he can always find Grayls back at the farm, if he's ever back over that way."

Suvaris returned another thoughtful nod. "I will do that."

Faryl affected a forced grin. "It's been good to run into ya again… but I gotta go get this stuff done before that trader goes an' changes his mind. Azura be with ya an' all that."

"And with you. Be sure to pass on my regards to your brother and nephew."

"I'll do that." With a final expression of friendly farewell on his face, Faryl turned and rushed off on his way toward the main gates of the city.

Watching Faryl head off in a great hurry, the irony of certain things was not lost upon Suvaris. He was in the process of travelling vast distances across Tamriel in search of someone he hadn't previously known to exist. He'd reasonably thought that he was the last of his line, before learning that there might another Suvaris out there. In stark contrast, it seemed that the extended Rurvyn clan reached across much of Morrowind and possibly beyond. With matters of business dominating his existence, Faryl didn't even have the time meet up with his cousin Adras when they were in the same city.

A flurry of snowflakes suddenly wafted down from above, reinforcing the chill in the air. With no pressing reason to remain in the marketplace, Suvaris elected to turn about and head back the way he'd come. Of course, he could have wandered a little further, but the weather was hardly so pleasant for that.

He could have even taken the opportunity to go visit that large Nordic tavern at the centre of town, but that held little appeal. He expected that it was likely to be rather noisy and unruly inside that place. Especially since he imagined that it would be full of sailors. Not only from the Zamsar, but also from those other two vessels at port. One ship had arrived from Solstheim the previous day and the other was a sea-going fishing vessel. Both vessel had also been waylaid by the weather and if sailors weren't sailing, many chose to pass their time in taverns if nothing denied the chance.

Even the thought of whatever hot food might be on offer in the tavern didn't sway him at all. That Breton cook upon the Zamsar had actually proven rather extraordinary. With his notable culinary skill, Suvaris imagined that he might easily find employ in any of the Imperial City's more opulent establishments. Along with the mild sense of growing hunger in his belly, those thoughts actually made him feel slightly more anxious to get back aboard the Zamsar to see what the cook had prepared for the evening.

Suvaris hastened his pace a little as he made his back toward Windhelm's docks.

~O~


	19. Chapter 19

Winds of the Ashfall: An Elder Scrolls Tale

Greg J Miller

~O~

Chapter 19

Tirdas the 13th of Hearthfire 4E71

Alaron Suvaris was up and about quite early that morning. The Zamsar had only just made port during the previous evening with yet another bout of inclement weather chasing them all the way. Fortunately, it hadn't been another severe storm quite like those that hounded the vessel on its way into Blacklight and Windhelm. Even so, it had still turned out to be a rainstorm of some sort, bringing heavy downpours. It made the seas notably less than ideal, but not nearly as treacherous as it might have been.

Adras Rurvyn had assured him that the run of storms quite so soon after the end of summer was not so typical, but it was a likely sign of what was to come. He'd suggested that the north was probably in for a nasty winter that season. It was also clear demonstration of why there'd be no more long haul vessels passing that way until the spring.

Hoping to pursue other business as soon as possible, Suvaris tended to his icing duties in the cargo hold quite early. He'd already heard that there was going to be some delay before the exchange of cargo was attended a little later in the day. Of course, part of the hold up was due to the adverse weather conditions. Though it wasn't exactly storming, the heavy rain kept coming in from the northern seas in persistent waves.

Aside from meeting his obligations with regard to the cargo, he was not especially interested in all the details of what was going on with all that. Suvaris was more anxious to learn if one of those four vessels he'd observed in the Solitude river harbour during the previous evening was the Anticlere Flyer. However, it seemed he was going to have to wait until first light to gain some insight.

It had already been dark and raining heavily when the Zamsar manoeuvred in close to the Solitude docks the previous evening. They hadn't actually docked at the piers yet, instead anchoring nearby, awaiting the morning light.

Even in the dark, it was obvious that one of the ships in the harbour was an Imperial Naval vessel. Another looked to be a sizeable fishing vessel. The other two appeared to be large cargo vessels somewhat similar to the Zamsar. Without any certainty, Suvaris remained hopeful that one of them could be the ship with Travlon aboard.

Once the subdued dawn had passed under dismal gray skies, the Zamsar eventually docked and presumably operational details had been arranged with the harbourmaster. So far, all that Suvaris knew was that the movement of cargo was still going ahead and that the weather was not looking good for that.

* * *

After he'd finished with his icing duties in the cargo hold, Suvaris looked to eating and other concerns. Details of the day's activities remained uncertain and he still didn't know the names of those other vessels at port. Eventually, he learned that he would be waiting about for a lengthy while that morning, before there would be any chance of doing anything else.

Only because he was not permitted near the upper deck during the exchange of cargo, he returned to that tiny cabin for a bit. Waiting to learn when he would be able disembark the vessel, Suvaris cast his mind back over the occurrences of the past three days.

After passing all of last Fredas at port at Windhelm awaiting the change of weather, the Zamsar finally departed Windhelm's docks during the next day. Due to the uncertain conditions on Loredas morning, it had ended up being a bit later than initially anticipated before they were again under way.

It appeared that the windblown snowfall over Windhelm had eased to almost nothing overnight. By the dim dawn, the worst of it had mostly passed. Only the occasional smattering of flakes fell from above in sporadic bursts on relatively light winds. It presented as stark contrast to the harsh gusts of wind driven sleet and snow of the previous day. Even so, the pale cloudy skies seemed somewhat undecided. Hardly storming, but not exactly holding the promise of fair weather either.

It was near to mid-morning by the time that the Zamsar's bosun was finally ordered to direct the crew to action. From what was heard, the captain had decided that the weather was as good as it was going to get and any further delay would likely only increase the odds of encountering greater concerns as the season turned.

That stretch of the White River from the city out to the sea remained relatively uneventful upon fairly becalmed waters. With the tide turning in favour, only light sail was needed to make the mouth of the river in fair time.

Of course, navigating the obstacles of the exposed bay proved more challenging for the crew of the vessel. That had been made sufficiently difficult by the agitated waters where the bay transitioned to the northern sea. Though it was not actually storming on Loredas, the waters were far from placid. Even so, once clearing the waters near to Bleakrock Isle, the generally mild heaving swell of the deeper waters presented no great adversity.

Still, those open waters immediately north of the mouth of the White River were not without other dangerous concerns. The Zamsar firstly needed to bear eastward to avoid numerous rocky outcrops and small islands near to the northern coastline. Even further out from the coast, the vessel still needed to navigate clear of a smattering of ice drifts and a number of other smaller rocky outcrops, which didn't really qualify as islands by any proper reckoning.

Once out into open water, the Zamsar was able to proceed under full sail for much of the latter part of the afternoon. Even so, it seemed to Suvaris that they'd not really travelled a significant distance westward before the sunset. Under the persistent gray skies, the waters of the sea seemed perhaps midway between calm and troubled.

Late in the day, during a brief visit up on deck, Suvaris thought that it had started to rain again. However, he quickly learned that it was only the spray of the seawater stirred from the bow of the vessel as it negotiated the mild swell.

Suvaris understood that the name of the northern sea served as a reminder of how many sailors had perished in those waters over the centuries. Many of their restless ghosts were said to haunt the lesser islands and reefs of the region.

He also gained some better idea of the other reason why those waters were known as the Sea of Ghosts. Looking back toward the distant landmass of Skyrim, he noted that not all of the snow covered rocky outcrops in view were what they seemed. A few of them appeared to be slowly moving, independent of other nearby objects, indicating that they were actually large ice drifts gradually drawing toward the coast. Looking out across the open waters toward the west and the north, he could also make out other similar objects drifting in the distance like pale ghosts upon the sea.

From passing conversations with Adras and other members of the crew, Suvaris learned that the sea ice remained the greatest matter of concern for vessels traversing those northern waters. Only during the height of the warmest summers did the ice retreat to lowest ebb. Even then, it was said that it was not uncommon for large mountains of ice to be occasionally seen sailing across the seas from the north. Still, during the summer, it was said that only those larger ones could remain intact to make it to the subtly warmer summer waters.

By the time of the full northern winter, the ice would commonly aggregate to form vast ice sheets extending from the Skyrim shoreline right out to where they sailed during the summer months. Adras had heard that it was sometimes possible to walk for several leagues upon the ice during the coldest months of the year. He'd been told that certain Nords took hunting parties out during the winter to find large horkers on the ice sheets.

Having tasted horker meat before, Suvaris questioned the value that kind of pursuit, balanced against the obvious dangers of the task. Apparently, horker skins were cured for leather and the tusks held some notable value. Even so, he imagined that the practice of hunting horkers upon winter ice sheets was more driven by tradition than need.

By the time that darkness was fading, the Zamsar's sails were furled and the anchor was dropped. The vessel passed Loredas evening anchored by the outermost rocky outcrop of that area. That tiny rock was the last fixed object in the waters north of the Winterhold region, situated just beyond the outmost of the larger outcrops and barren islands.

The ship's lone Khajiit had been posted perched up high on the main mast keeping watch for dangers. Though other concerns might have been possible, he was mostly watching for ice drifts.

After the passing of a relatively peaceful evening, the Zamsar was again on its way with the dawn on Sundas. The weather seemingly remained uncertain that day. Though nothing seemed to actually fall from the skies, the vaguely threatening cloud cover remained overhead. The swell of the open waters remained comparatively mild, but it was far from calm. Even so, the vessel was able to proceed under full sail for most of the day. The only real concern of the day had been navigating well clear of any large ice drifts in view, as well as watching for any less obvious ice sitting lower to sea level.

The relatively cool weather above and icy seawaters below had certainly made the task of keeping chilled cargo at a proper temperature far less arduous. Though Adras had come down check on it as well, Suvaris was able handle it all easily enough on his own.

During that second day out from Windhelm, Suvaris had briefly run into that mysterious Redguard he'd previously noticed back in Mournhold and then again before he boarded the vessel at Ald Mire. It seemed that Jellan had only paused to consider Suvaris because he'd observed that he looked out of place among the other crew of the vessel.

Only a brief exchange passed. Jellan enthusiastically confirmed that he was a wine merchant, originally hailing from Rihad in eastern Hammerfell, but recently passing more of his time in Cyrodiil. He also confirmed that Captain Cirroc was a close friend, but seemed less open with regard to that matter.

The Redguard had been somewhat curious upon learning that Suvaris was Fighters Guild. A brief explanation that he was merely providing icer service in exchange for passage on the vessel seemed enough to satisfy Jellan's passing curiosity. After hearing that detail, the Redguard seemed to hold no further interest and continued on his way.

Suvaris found himself feeling slightly curious that he'd managed to pass nearly nine days on the Zamsar without previously encountering that Redguard at all. He held no idea where Jellan passed his time. He speculated that he might have been quartered with the captain, since he'd not actually seen him either.

Pausing to think about it, Suvaris noted that he didn't really have much contact with many of the Zamsar's crew. Aside from the captain, there were twelve other crew members on the vessel, thirteen including himself. Most of his direct contact generally seemed limited to Anton the Imperial bosun, Adras, that Breton lad Daric, and Gaston the cook.

Though he'd seen everyone else but the captain, he didn't know most by name. It was fair to note that few seemed at all interested in knowing his name. More than once he'd been referred to as 'hoy you' or just 'Dunmer'. It seemed that few of the Zamsar's crew were particular friendly. The three Redguard of the regular crew seemed notably unfriendly.

He'd picked up on a few names in passing, but only a few. There was a rather sullen and unkempt Imperial who seemed to go by 'Max', presumably that was shortened from something else. There were also two Nords who both seemed to go by 'Hans', if he wasn't mistaken. He didn't actually know the Khajiit's name, since everyone seemed to only refer to him as 'the Khajiit' and he seemed to very much keep to himself. Aside from that, the names of the others remained unknown to him. Suvaris chose to merely accept that as the way of things.

Sundas evening, the Zamsar passed the hours of darkness positioned somewhere well north of Dawnstar, possibly even a bit west of that location. Evidently, the waters were far too deep to drop anchor. The ship passed the evening drifting with sail hoisted and with that Khajiit again perched up high to keep watch for dangers.

Once the light of another grim gray dawn had arrived on Morndas morning, the Zamsar resumed the journey toward the next port. As Suvaris understood it, the vessel needed to travel a little further to the west and then back to the south before making its way for the ruling seat of Skyrim's Haafingar region.

Adras had explained the manoeuvres the Zamsar would be observing on its way to Solitude. With the mountains of Haafingar in view on the southern horizon, they'd be coming along toward two tiny barren islands. Those rocky outcrops marked the turn. From there, they'd be sailing due south, until the Solitude Lighthouse was clearly in view. Adras told him that they needed to follow a path directly for the lighthouse to avoid an obvious rocky reef to the east and another less visible reef further to the west. They also needed to avoid any ice drifts that might be intruding upon the area. Once near the lighthouse, which was actually located well outside the city, the Zamsar would swing out to the east into the broad bay of the Karth River. The reasonable expectation had been that they'd make port during the afternoon.

However, the weather shifted markedly just after the vessel began the turn near those rocky islands. The skies to the north and east darkened and winds turned gusty. Suvaris had heard that the crew above deck had their hands quite full trying to hold course. The rolling and bouncing movement of the vessel easily supported that claim. Of course, he'd been expected to remain below deck and out the way during all of that.

He'd later heard that the crosswinds and agitated waters north of the bay forced the Zamsar to minimal sail as they struggled to slowly navigate the most dangerous part of the passage, avoiding the rocky reefs. Even nearer to the lighthouse, further effort had been required to keep clear of the rocky coastline before making it to the deeper channels of the bay.

He'd also heard that sails were earlier spotted coming out on the bay as they were on their way inward, but those vessels had evidently turned about and returned to the safety of the harbour.

Fortunately, the gusty winds eased off as the rainstorm arrived. Even so, the heavy downpour and choppy waters still made things notably challenging all the way to port. Of course with all that adversity in play, it was dark and rainy by the time that the Zamsar finally pulled into the harbour.

Only once the ship had come to full rest, Suvaris had tried to go up to see what the situation was. Aside from managing to become as drenched as most of the rest of the crew, he'd observed that they were actually in port, but not yet docked. He also spotted those other four vessels in view and not much else.

* * *

It was late in the morning by the time that the exchange of cargo was finally done and then Suvaris needed to look to his icing duties once more before he was able to consider the possibility of disembarking the vessel.

It seemed that the rain was still showing no sign of easing. In passing, he'd heard that all the vessels at port were going nowhere until the weather showed some indication of improving. He'd already considered that circumstance might actually serve in his favour.

"Suvaris?" Adras was shuffling his way through the crates in the hold and headed toward him. "Figured I'd find ya down here."

Suvaris noted that the other Dunmer was carrying one of those heavy cloaks. They were fashioned from animal skins, oiled to keep out water. He'd observed the crew wearing them up on deck during the inclement weather. "Are you going back out in the rain?"

Adras stifled a snort. "B'vek, no. Had me fill of that for one day, or maybe the whole week. Figured ya might be wantin' to borrow it."

Suvaris raised his brow in question, anticipating that Adras had more to say.

"Just found out that ship over on the west pier is the Anticlere Flyer… an' they're stuck here just like us. For today, leastways. Can't be sayin' what tomorrow will bring."

Suvaris returned a subdued grin. "That is agreeable news... for my purposes."

"Figured ya might be thinkin' that. Ya might even get ta find out if that fella yer lookin' for is on it." Handing the cloak over to Suvaris, Adras gestured toward the chilled cargo. "I can finish up here for ya."

Suvaris responded with a mild shrug. "It's already done, for now."

Adras nodded with a grin. "Much easier for me, then."

"Yes, for now."

Adras nodded his head toward the crates. "I'll just check over what's what… in case any of it needs lookin' to before ya get back."

Suvaris returned an agreeable nod, before taking his leave.

* * *

Suvaris left the cool and damp cargo hold behind and made his way for the upper deck of the ship. He put on the heavy cloak before stepping outside. Just as he reasonably suspected, the rain was still coming down rather steadily. The cargo hold suddenly seemed just a little less cold and damp. Though it looked like a grim and gloomy day outside, he could be somewhat thankful that it wasn't windy as well.

The Zamsar was docked along the eastern side of the main pier. A two level timber structure on the docks next to the boarding planks was clearly marked with East Empire Trading Company signage. Minding his footing, he made his way across the deck, then down the boards to the main pier. After crossing the short distance along the pier, Suvaris paused beneath the cover of the broad awning in front of the East Empire building.

Turning about with a mild curiosity, Suvaris looked toward the huge doors sealing a large cavern entrance in the cliff-face below the city. It put him in mind of the large gates on the canals through Bravil. However, what he was gazing upon seemed much larger than those other canal gates and appeared to completely conceal whatever lay beyond.

A Nord accented voice called out from the open doorway of the timber structure behind him. "Only East Empire ships in there."

Suvaris raised his eyebrows. "There are ships in there?" He noted that the portly man in the doorway looked more like an Imperial than a Nord, despite his local accent.

The other man maintained a stern expression. "If you ain't East Empire, you don't have no business in there."

Suvaris nodded his understanding. "Of course. I'm… I'm actually looking for the Anticlere Flyer."

The other man narrowed his eyes. "Didn't I see you just coming off the Zamsar?"

Suvaris nodded. "That's correct. I'm with the Zamsar. I understand that a… a nephew of mine is on that other vessel."

The portly Imperial shrugged and pointed his thumb in the general direction of the outer piers. "That one over there. West pier, off the end."

Suvaris returned a thankful expression. He could tell that other man didn't really care if he was helpful or otherwise. He only seemed interested in directing him away from the East Empire warehousing. Clutching the heavy cloak and keeping his head inclined so that the hood deflected the persistent rainfall, Suvaris made his way southward along the pier.

Suvaris noticed that the ship of the Imperial Navy was still anchored out in the harbour, positioned out of reach of any piers. Though its name was not evident, the flags and other markings clearly broadcast that it was a naval vessel.

Passing by that other cargo vessel docked just behind the Zamsar, he could see nothing obvious to indicate the name of that ship either. Since only some trade vessels were signed with boldly marked names on the hull, he casually wondered how proper identification was maintained.

At the end of the main pier, a shorter pier veered of to the east. A much longer pier extended toward the west between two vessels. Of course, the mid-sized fishing vessel on one side appeared obvious enough. Even though there seemed nothing in clear view to broadcast its name, the other vessel had to be the Anticlere Flyer.

The planks were extended from ship to pier, but there seemed to be nobody about up on deck. Given the state of the weather, that came as no great surprise. Presuming he was going to have to go find someone, Suvaris made his way up onto the vessel and looked toward the entry to below deck. He then noticed a younger Redguard lad in the open doorway, standing just out of reach of the rain. The lad called out to someone inside, before returning his attention toward the approaching stranger. Just as Suvaris neared the doorway, a man of Breton appearance with dark facial hair roughly sculpted into a stylised beard pushed past the lad.

The Breton eyed Suvaris with suspicion. "Ship's bosun. What's your business?"

Suvaris maintained an even tone. "Alaron Suvaris, travelling on the Zamsar. I'd heard that there might be a Travlon Suvaris on the Anticlere Flyer."

The bosun frowned. "Ah, well yeah. We have a Travlon Suvaris. You related?"

"Though I've not met him before, I believe that to be the case."

"You don't sound nothing like him… maybe got a bit of the same look about you, near as I can tell." The Breton didn't seemed immediately swayed.

"I've been living in Cheydinhal for several decades. However, I have reason to believe that Travlon might be my brother's grandson. I'd only just learned of him very recently."

"Brother's grandson?"

"From what I've been able to learn, yes. That's what I suspect."

The bosun shook his head. "Dunno nothing about any of that. He's just one of my riggers. Only fairly new. S'pose you'll have ask him."

Suvaris returned an understanding nod. "I'm hoping to."

The Breton shook his head again. "He ain't here. He's gone off back up the city with some other lads."

Suvaris glanced off toward the stone walls up above, before returning his gaze to other man. He hadn't spoken the question that his expression was clearly broadcasting.

The Bosun answered anyway. "Since we're stuck here until tomorrow, you'll probably find them up in a local tavern or the like."

Suvaris again nodded. "I thank you for your time."

Without speaking, the Breton nodded his head once and watched the Dunmer turn away. He kept watching until he was off the vessel.

* * *

Only easing off mildly, the rain kept coming down from the dismal skies. Suvaris made his way back along the piers toward where he'd come from.

Just short of the East Empire building, wooden stairways rose up from the northern side of the main pier. Whichever way anyone followed from the docks to the city, it began with those stairs.

The previous evening, Adras had casually mentioned previous visits to Solitude and the two ways up to the city. He knew that he could either turn left from the top of the stairway and go up via the hamlet and stabling outside the east of the fortified city entrance, or else turn right to go over the stone bridge. A bit further along, there was meant to be a tunnel to a stairway that climbed up through the rock to come out inside the city.

Suvaris glanced toward the grain mill tower rising above the rooves of nearby farmhouses uphill to the east. With rain angling from a northerly direction, the cliff face near the stone bridge on his right seemed to make it appear slightly more sheltered. Since there was meant to be a covered tunnel into the city in that direction, he decided to head that way.

Along the way, Suvaris noted that the bridge was actually directly above that gated cavern in the rock face, where that man by the docks had mentioned that East Empire ships were sheltered. That was something that Adras hadn't mentioned at all.

Looking ahead, he also noted that the pathway continued off into the distance, below the tall rocky formation forming a grand arch over the river. He understood that the main city was situated on the northern side of that archway. However, some portion of the city was actually on that arch above the river. He also understood that the famed Blue Palace of Haafingar was perched atop the sheer cliff faces rising up from the southern side.

Through the rain, he could just make out that some of the sections of tiled roofing above the gray stone walls of the palace did seem to be blue, but most of what he could see appeared to be built from the same gray stone as everything else in view. He also noticed a tall windmill up above on the south side of the arch. Though there seemed no noticeable wind, the vanes were slowly rotating.

He hadn't noticed them until they took flight, but there must have been several gulls sheltering along overhangs in the cliff face. It wasn't immediately obvious why a group of about a dozen birds had suddenly scattered in different directions. One gull skimming low toward the surface of the river was suddenly struck from above by a dark coloured blur from above. The unfortunate gull was carried away in the talons of a seahawk of some kind. The hawk continued onward across the river toward the southern shores.

After crossing over that stone bridge and passing a neglected looking hardwood lamppost, Suvaris was beginning to wonder just how far off that lower city entrance was. Just when he was starting to think that he'd somehow gone the wrong way, he spotted a timber door set into the rock to the left of the path with another lamppost just nearby. Though it remained unmarked and unguarded, evidently it was what he was looking for.

The timber door opened easily enough, indicating that it was well used and that the hinges were well greased. The oil lamp burning inside also indicated that the tunnel was regularly used. Eager to get out of the rain, Suvaris closed the door behind him and entered the tunnel ahead.

~O~


	20. Chapter 20

Winds of the Ashfall: An Elder Scrolls Tale

Greg J Miller

~O~

Chapter 20

Tirdas the 13th of Hearthfire 4E71 Afternoon

After passing through that door in the cliff face above the harbour on the Karth River, Alaron Suvaris followed that dimly lit tunnel for a short distance. A crudely carved stairway began to rise up through a larger cavern, leading to a more purpose built stairway enclosed within stone brick walls. The staircase continued onward and upward for several flights. In fact, there were so many runs of stairs that he'd quickly lost count of how many levels the ascent might have represented. Though the climb seemed arduous, it still seemed a welcome reprieve from the persistent rain coming down outside.

Eventually, it appeared that he'd finally arrived at his destination. Though it looked as though the staircase continued on upward, it seemed that the long stone corridor ahead led out to the city street. He could see a local city guard leaning against the wall just near the far end and also briefly observed somebody dashing past the opening in the muted daylight.

The Solitude guard appeared slightly startled as he noticed someone coming along the corridor toward him. Presumably, the noise of the rain falling outside masked the sound of his approach. Stepping away from the wall, the helmeted guard didn't immediately say anything, only seeming to be taking the measure of an unfamiliar Dunmer drawing near.

Beyond the open metal gates at the end of the corridor, it seemed that there might be some sort of cover overhead. The rain appeared to be falling heavier on either side of a relatively narrow section immediately outside.

Given that the guard remained silent, Suvaris chose to speak up first, affecting a courteous tone. "Good day to you."

The guard hesitated a moment. "And to you… though it ain't looking all that good."

Suvaris inclined his head. "Well no, it does seem that the rain is not looking likely to pass so quickly."

The guard shook his helmeted head. "No, it ain't. You up from one of them ships down in the harbour?"

Suvaris thought that it seemed perfectly evident, but he remained polite. "Yes, from the Zamsar."

A subtle movement of the guard's helmet indicated that the name probably meant nothing to him. "Temple or tavern?"

"Yes well, I'm expecting to find someone who has gone to the tavern."

The guard shrugged slightly. "Long as you ain't here to cause any trouble. Just head off to the left, through the marketplace. Tavern's on the right, just short of the front gates. Can't miss it."

After thanking the guard for the directions, Suvaris pulled up the hood of his heavy cloak and continued on his way.

Having never before been there, he didn't know all that much about Solitude, aside from what he'd previously read. Of course, he knew of the famed Blue Palace of Haafingar, where the ruling High King of Skyrim resided. He knew that each of the holds of that northern province were ruled over by a Jarl and that the High King ruled over them all. That was about the full extent of his knowledge in that regard.

He also understood that there was meant to be secondary castle located in Solitude, where the Imperial Legion was stationed and a northern residence for the Emperor was traditionally maintained. Of course aside from that period of turmoil during the Stormcrown Interregnum, the High King of Skyrim still maintained fealty to the standing Emperor of the aligned provinces.

The only other notable thing that he knew of in Solitude was the famed college for bards. He'd often thought it somewhat curious that Nords would hold such a thing in such high regard. Though he'd known some Nords to break into song when thoroughly inebriated, few would mistake what was heard for cultured performance. Even so, he'd observed troupes of performers in the Imperial City reputed to have perfected their skills at Solitude's Bards College and almost without exception, they all seemed a far cry from drunken Nords in an ale-house.

Up above where Suvaris had departed that corridor with the guard, he observed a stone walkway. That was the reason for the partial deflection of the rain coming down. It appeared to connect from that structure he'd just departed to a section of what he presumed to be that Imperial castle of the city. At least, he assumed that the fortified stone walls rising up above represented what he imagined must be a castle.

Just around the corner, a stone well stood by an open square. There were several market stalls arranged in a loose half-circle. However, nothing was under cover and nobody was standing about in the rain. A couple of sealed crates were chained to a post, but the open marketplace was obviously not operating at all during the inclement weather.

He could hear the sounds of a blacksmith working metal coming from up above and across the street. A column of smoke rose from a forge or the like. Though he couldn't see much from the street, it looked like some timber awnings provided some cover for the smith.

A little further along the path, Suvaris observed some other stores located within proper structures. They seemed a mix of general supply, except for the one on the right which appeared to service alchemical requirements and similar. Given that the structure seemed a little large for just an alchemy store, he casually wondered if that might have previously been the location of Solitude's Mages Guild, from back when that was still a going concern.

He also casually wondered where the old Fighters Guild had been in that city. He'd heard how that last Guildhall in Skyrim had finally closed up around fifteen years back. He'd thought that Chorrol's Guild Master had been intending to try to convince them to reconnect with the Guildhalls of Cyrodiil. However, that never came to pass.

Just where the guard had suggested, Suvaris spotted the tavern. He noticed a line of pigeons of bedraggled appearance huddling along the eaves at the side of the building. Though they were obviously trying to keep out of the rain, he considered how that might not be their only concern. Given what he'd seen down by the waterfront with that hawk taking a gull, he imagined that they commonly needed to remain wary of such concerns when the skies above were not quite so transparent.

Nearing the tavern, Suvaris noticed that the sign hanging from the front awning appeared much newer than the building itself. According the signage, the establishment was called the "No Solitude Inn". The image below the name featured a caricature of two smiling faces peering over tankards. Presumably, the current owner of the place thought that the name sounded especially clever, suggesting that nobody should come there to be alone.

Stopping under the dripping awning at the front of the place, Suvaris released a heavy sigh, then opened the timber door to step inside.

* * *

Though he'd heard nothing much from the outside, the inside of the No Solitude Inn seemed immediately as noisy as any other rowdy tavern where sailors might gather whenever they were at port. The thick stone walls certainly managed to contain the noise quite well.

Suvaris pulled back the hood of the heavy coat he was wearing and released the toggle buttons holding the front closed. He'd considered taking it off, but that seemed like it would be far more trouble than it was worth. It would be easier to leave it on.

Numerous voices echoed throughout the tavern, seemingly competing with the sounds of music coming from further inside. It wasn't just a single individual playing music in a corner of the tavern. From what he could tell, it sounded like a group of musicians were performing. At least one person was playing a stringed instrument of some sort, with another playing a flute, and a third individual keeping a beat on a drum. They were somewhere over to the right behind a wall, but the sounds reverberated throughout the tavern space. Presumably, the performers must have trained at that Bard College, as each they seemed quite skilled, as near as Suvaris could reasonably tell.

Though the music was not at all untuneful, it really did serve to make the place much noisier than he might have preferred. Perhaps more so, because so many of the tavern's patrons were not content to merely listen to the performance. Though some clapped along with the beating drum, many others sought to maintain other conversations, creating a noisy background dissonance.

Though the space immediately about the main entryway remained relatively clear, the same could not be said for everywhere else in the crowded tavern. Suvaris didn't make it very far before he found obstruction.

A boisterous Nord with long fair hair and a full beard, which failed to contain his gleeful grin, blocked Suvaris' path. He seemed quite likely to spill some of the ale from his tankard. "Dunmer. My gray-skinned brother… from the east. No solitude in here. Drink… drink and be merry." The big Nord laughed loudly at his own comments, then stepped aside, taking a long sip from his tankard.

Suvaris merely returned a respectful nod, then shuffled past, trying to make his way toward the service counter that he could see several paces ahead. Though it wasn't really so far to the northern side of the tavern area, getting over there seemed challenging. There were several more bodies standing between his position and that service counter. Some were in motion, but a number of them remained in place with drinks in hand. It seemed that there were far more people in the tavern than the seating could accommodate.

Though they seemed to make up a significant proportion of the patronage, they were not all Nords. A few paces out from the counter, a couple of Imperial men seemed to be engaged in a jovial discussion with a well-dressed Breton man. No matter who moved past them, they weren't voluntarily shifting from that position they'd claimed.

Just nearby, a male and female Redguard stood side by side, close to the western wall. Only from the way they were dressed, they looked like they might be desert traders or the like. They seemed notably out of place in Skyrim's northern capital.

Just briefly, Suvaris noticed two of those Redguard sailors from the Zamsar sitting on a bench seat in an alcove to his left. He still didn't know their names. They either hadn't spotted him passing by, or else just didn't care. He remained relatively unaffected either way.

Suvaris thought that he'd noticed another Dunmer male of rather fair complexion leaving the service counter. However, he quickly realised the mistake. He wasn't a Dunmer of a paler shade of gray. His eyes weren't even red. He was actually a fairly tall Bosmer with a dusky tan. Many, but not all of the Bosmer more commonly seen about Cyrodiil and nearer to their native Valenwood looked less like that.

Though not uncommonly muscular or even stout, most Bosmer males either directly from Valenwood, or only a few generations removed, tended to be far shorter in stature. The females tended to stand a little taller, but generally with notably slender frames.

He'd often suspected that it had something to do with the strict adherence to the Green Pact with Y'ffre, upheld by most Bosmer of the Valenwood. He imagined that a diet excluding all greenery had to have some sort of adverse affect over several generations.

That seemed supported by the evidence that many Bosmer growing up well beyond the Valenwood for a few generations, and eating the same as everyone else, seemingly grew taller and broader.

Casting aside his distracted thoughts, Suvaris finally had made it to the service counter by the northern wall. A younger Breton woman stood behind the bar with a slightly weary expression. She cast a look of expectation his way. "What are you here for?"

Suvaris raised his eyebrows, casting a quick glance over the listing of what was on offer. "Ah… well, perhaps a… Nord mead?"

The Breton behind the bar returned a stern nod, then set to filling a tankard.

Suvaris didn't really want the drink, but since he was in a tavern, it served the purpose of keeping up appearances. He soon exchanged coin for mead.

The Breton noted that he didn't seem completely done. "Something else?"

Suvaris met her gaze more directly. "I don't suppose that you've noticed a younger Dunmer in here, perhaps of somewhat similar appearance to myself?"

The Breton woman shrugged. "Think there's a few Dunmer in here. Some off the ships, I expect. Can't say if any of them look like you. Maybe… you oughta go take a look around for yourself."

Suvaris returned a gracious nod and retreated from the counter with his tankard in hand. He found a spot just off to one side to stop for a moment. Looking about, he couldn't immediately see anybody who might be who he was looking for.

Seated at a table in a corner not far from the service counter, but where the performers could still be seen, there was a family of Nords with two noisy and restless children, who seemed reluctant to remain in their seats.

On a bench seat by the wall near that family, he noticed an older Dunmer male was sitting with a female of similar age. He expected that they might be husband and wife.

He looked about the other tables and seats of the main area in view. He spotted another Dunmer among a group of Nords and Imperials, but he was surely too old and dark of colouring to be that Travlon.

Suvaris then noticed there were more people upstairs, where a balcony overlooked the middle of the tavern space. He couldn't see how many people were up there, but it looked like quite a few. He decided to make his way for the staircase over the eastern side. Even if he didn't find him up there, he thought that he might stand to gain a better view of the whole place from up above.

Shuffling past a group of rowdy Nords clapping the musicians on, Suvaris found the wooden stairs at the back and made his way to the level above. There were a few more people standing about with drinks in hand and some more seated over nearer to the railing of the balcony.

Among a mixed variety of individuals, he finally noticed a younger Dunmer leaning against the wall near the balcony. A few boisterous Nords were seated at a table just next to him.

Suvaris managed to make his way through the throng to where that other Dunmer was standing and sipping from a tankard. At a glance, he thought that he could see something of his brother in his look. The musicians had paused to allow a wave of applause to pass and one of them announced that a singer was about to join them.

Suvaris tried to quickly gain the other Dunmer's attention before the opportunity seemed lost. "Travlon, Travlon Suvaris?"

The younger Dunmer turned slightly and looked up from his tankard with a suspicious frown. Aside from clearly recognising another Dunmer looking his way, he appeared otherwise unmoved. "Why? Whatsit to ya?"

"My name is Alaron Suvaris."

The younger returned another suspicious frown, only taking a moment to examine the strange face. "So what?"

Suvaris released a little sigh. "My brother's name was Travlon and his wife's name, Evyna. They had a young son called Taron, my nephew."

The younger Dunmer's expression slowly shifted. He appeared slightly less defensive and possibly more confused. "Me old man's name was Taron."

"Taron Suvaris?"

"Well, yeah. Didn't have no family but. Got orphaned back when the lizards rampaged through the homeland."

"Hoy, you two. Want to hear the bards." A large and hairy Nord cast an angry expression in their direction.

Suvaris responded with an understanding bow, then gestured to Travlon, inviting him to follow him away from the Nords, toward the back of the upper level. Still looking somewhat uncertain, the younger Dunmer did as he suggested.

"So wot yer tryin' to say is… wot yer sayin' is ya reckon we're related?"

Suvaris returned a sage nod. "I believe so."

Travlon's expression conveyed his doubt.

"My brother, Travlon, his wife and their son, Taron, all lived in a small farming village, just south-east of Kragenmoor. As did I, my wife Morena, and our children Arisa & Varen."

The younger Dunmer shook his head. "Dunno any of them other names. Only that me old man's name was Taron… and he named me Travlon, after his own father."

"He would have only been very young when… when it all happened." Suvaris paused with a grimace.

Travlon shook his head again. "As far as I know, me old man got found by the River Thir… when he was real young… and got taken to Mournhold with lotsa others. Dunno nothin' about any other family. Reckoned that he had none. None alive, anyways."

Suvaris went on to explain what he knew. He'd been told that all his family and his brother's family had perished in an accident while fleeing from the Argonians headed in their direction. He'd been away on Fighters Guild business when all that happened and failed to make it back in time. He further explained how after losing all his family, he'd eventually ended up staying in Cheydinhal after helping others make it over there. Up until just a few weeks before, he'd held no idea that Taron might have survived. He'd mourned them all and long ago resolved to live with his great regrets, channelling his energies toward helping others.

Taking it all in, Travlon seemed to struggle with the details. It wasn't necessarily that didn't believe it, only that he hadn't known most of it before. He told Suvaris some more of what he knew of his father. After passing some time in Mournhold, he understood that his father eventually ended up living with a family of farmers over near Bosmora by the coast.

Only after being prompted, Travlon revealed that he'd also lost his father when he was fairly young. He understood that Taron used to work on a sea-going fishing vessel and then one day, he just never came back. The ship was believed lost in a storm while there were out on the eastern sea. His mentioned how his mother worked with the fishmongers at Bosmora, when he was young. However, once he was old enough to make it on his own, she took off with a travelling trader from the north and he hadn't seen her since. He didn't seemed interested in saying any more about any of it.

"Dunno wotcha want from me. Maybe we're blood related, but it ain't like we're real family. Not really. Didn't even know you existed until now."

Suvaris tilted his head slightly, releasing a little sigh. "I suppose that I'm not really expecting anything. I wasn't even convinced that I'd find you… or that you truly were my brother's grandson."

Travlon shrugged. "Well, I s'pose it looks like I might be. Leastways, from the sounds of wot ya say. Don't reckon it changes nothin' but."

Suvaris returned a resigned nod. "No, I suppose that it doesn't really change what lies in the past. Even so, I'm glad to know that something our family remains. I wish… I wish that I'd known…"

Travlon finished emptying the last of the content of his tankard. "Yeah well, ya didn't know. So, that's that. Like ya say, can't change the past."

Suvaris again nodded, indicating his acceptance. "No, can't change the past. I'm still glad to know that I'm not the last Suvaris. Added to that, you're still quite young. You've plenty of time to start a family of your own."

Travlon scoffed. "B'vek, ain't got nothin' like that in me sights. Never know, I s'pose."

"There's always time." Suvaris was trying to sound optimistic, but it was somehow coming out as rather maudlin.

Travlon again looked to his empty tankard. "Well, it's been ah… been real interestin' ta meet ya, but I can't hang about. Gotta get me arse back down to the ship. We're hopin' ta have another go at headin' out again in the mornin', if the weather let's us."

Suvaris felt like he wanted to say much more, but he was feeling at something of a loss in the moment. Even so, he reached for something more before the younger Dunmer walked away. "Well, Travlon… I'm travelling on the Zamsar. We may well meet again, if we're at the same port… at the same time. After that, I'll be heading back to Cheydinhal."

Travlon returned a sharp nod. "Yeah, got it." With that, he turned and walked away.

Suvaris watch him walk off, feeling rather despondent. He remained standing by the back wall for several moments just going over his thoughts. He wasn't really sure what he'd been expecting once he'd finally found Travlon, if he found him. Only that he imagined that it might have been something different from actually what transpired.

Without enjoying it all, he drank down the mead he was holding. After a short while, he'd decided that it must be getting rather late in the day and that he should probably start making his way back down to the Zamsar before it was any later.

* * *

Leaving the tavern behind, Suvaris pulled up his hood and stepped back outside to the street. He paused for a lengthy moment under the awning in front of the place. He noted the mist about the hot glass of the burning oil lamp hanging from the wooden beam extending outward from the awning. Any hope that the rain might have finally passed was quickly dismissed. Though the drizzle seemed perhaps a little lighter than earlier, it show no sign of actually stopping. In some fashion, the weather seemed to reflect his mood.

He didn't think that the sun had actually set behind the mountains quite yet. However under the heavy cloud overhead, it already seemed as though night had effectively fallen over the city. Even if had been after sunset, with both moons likely remaining hidden behind the thick blanket of dark cloud, it seemed an even gloomier than typical evening was ahead.

Gazing outward, across and down the street, similar oil lamps burned out the front of the other buildings immediately in view and he could see some other enclosed streetlamps off in the distance, which had also already been lit. There seemed just enough light for anyone to navigate the streets, if they chose to be out in that terrible weather. Aside from what seemed to be either a drunkard or a beggar snoozing by a pushcart beneath the awnings of the store across the street, Suvaris seemed to be the only person standing outside at that particular moment. Obviously, Travlon was long gone and probably close to the docks by then.

He might have reasonably expected to see a local city guard posted by the fortified city entrance or something like that, but none were in view. He supposed that they might be out on the other side of the gates, or else up somewhere in the ramparts above. It was fair to think that nobody really wanted to be out in that weather, if there was any way to avoid it.

With a heavy sigh, Suvaris started to head off back in the direction of where he'd previously come from. Just as he was passing the alchemical store on his left and making use of the cover from the awning extending from the front of that place, he changed his mind, considering going back the other way instead. He wasn't at all certain of the logic of it. He didn't really know whether the other path was shorter or longer than the way he'd come earlier. He just felt like walking the path via that small hamlet outside of town, instead of going back down to the waterfront via that seemingly endless staircase through the rock.

As he was crossing the distance between the two buildings, Suvaris thought that he heard shuffling noises near the back of the alchemy store. The sounds of his own footsteps and that of the rain falling upon his hood obscured what he could clearly hear. He heard what sounded like a dull thud as he paused. Turning his head, he just barely caught sight of what seemed to be the movement of a figure in the shadows behind a tree. Though it remained difficult to easily see, he thought that it looked like someone leaping up onto the wall or else something at the back of the building.

The figure immediately disappeared from view into the shadows. His curiosity piqued, Suvaris shifted a few steps nearer. He just caught view of some movement on what looked like an elevated surface of some sort behind the building. He thought that it looked like a large bundle was being dragged further into the shadows.

His thoughts combined what he thought he'd heard with what little he could see, to assemble a likely sequence of events. He tenuously decided that something large had just been tossed up onto the ledge of the wall at the back of that alchemy store and that someone had jumped up there to drag it away. It also seemed that there was more than just the ledge of the stone wall, possibly an elevated platform behind it or the like.

Given that it was dark and rainy, nobody else was around, and whoever was back there was acting very quietly with no lantern or other light source, it all seemed highly suspicious. It was perfectly fair to conclude that it was probably somebody up to no good.

Suvaris sighed inwardly, taking a few more steps in that direction. It could be easily argued that whatever was going on was not really his concern. However, his conscious nagged at him, telling him otherwise.

As he was cautiously approaching a little closer to the stone wall near the back of the building, he considered that rather than disturbing a smuggler or thief, he might well have been risking the interruption of something even more dangerously nefarious. Whatever was tossed up onto that elevated platform seemed suspiciously large. A combination of instinct and imagination told him that the dark bundle seemed suspiciously close to the size of a person.

Before he'd made it past the tree to get close enough to the stone wall, he heard a scraping noise. It sounded metal on stone. That noise was followed by a clanging thud.

Suvaris held in place, trying to peer into the shadows. He really couldn't see any movement, or much of anything. Since that last noise, he'd heard nothing but the sounds of falling rain. He cautiously stepped up onto a large pile of rocks next to the stone wall, but still sensed no indication of anybody there.

He quietly sighed again. Uncertain of exactly what might be going on, he couldn't shake his sense of suspicion and bring himself to just walk away.

With slightly more difficulty than he anticipated, he managed to cautiously climb up onto the stone wall at the back of the alchemy store. Remaining crouched down, he paused in position, slightly annoyed that water had run down inside the sleeves of that heavy coat that he was wearing over his armour. There was still nothing or no one to be seen.

The only thing that he could clearly tell was that there actually was a relatively small stone platform up there between the back of the building and the much taller stone wall rising up to those smithing stores out the front of the Imperial castle.

Still crouching low, he cautiously shifted forward a little. In the dim shadows, Suvaris found what appeared to be a sewer cover set into the surface of the stone platform. At least, he thought that it seemed just like the sewer covers he'd observed back in the street. That seemed to add up with the noises he'd just heard. The figure in the shadows had most likely gone down through that access point and then pulled the cover back into place.

Perhaps a little late to be thinking about it, he reminded himself that he'd left his proper weapons back on the ship in the lockup. He only had a short dagger on him. Though he didn't have his helmet or gauntlets either, he was wearing the rest of his armour. Aside from his underclothes, that was all that he generally wore at most times.

Unwilling to turn away from further investigation, Suvaris paused a moment to prepare the most powerful frost spell that he knew, as well as a shielding spell to reinforce the effectiveness of his armour.

With the shielding spell cast, his dagger in one hand and the frost magic ready to be called upon, he shifted the metal cover aside as quietly as he could manage and then cautiously peered down inside.

It seemed perfectly dark and quiet down below. He pulled back his hood and listened more intently, but there seemed nothing to hear or see. Finding the top of a wooden ladder seemingly affixed to the wall below, he cautiously started to descend.

Suvaris cringed inwardly at the subtle creaking noises resulting from his movement on that wooden ladder. He'd specifically chosen to leave that heavy sewer cover exactly where it was, rather than trying to drag it back into place. He didn't want to risk making any unnecessary noise and also wanted to leave an easy exit available.

A few moments later, Suvaris found the bottom. It felt like solid rock beneath his boots. There seemed that there was nothing to light the way. Pausing again, he could still see nothing or hear nothing, but for some distant dripping sounds. He could feel a rough stone wall just behind the ladder.

Keeping his hand upon that wall, he took a tentative step toward his left. Though it seemed cool and damp down there. He noted that he could sense none of the smells he might reasonably expect from a sewer. There was a distinctive musty smell on the air, but nothing worse than that.

It was only once he'd followed along the wall a few paces and found a corner, that he finally noted the faintest glimmer of some light coming from somewhere off to his right. He crouched down and observed that the distant light appeared to be coming from somewhere at a higher elevation. It took him a moment to understand that there was a ramp or stairway between his position and the distant light.

Though he couldn't really see where he was going, he carefully edged his way forward. Along the way, he found a couple of timber supports up against the stone wall, as well as something made of metal leaning against the wall that might have been lamp-stand or the like. He continued forward for several paces until he found what seemed to be a stone step, with another one just above it. That told him that it was a flight of steps, rather than a ramp. He became more convinced that it wasn't a sewer, but he held no idea of exactly what that place was about.

As quietly as possible, Suvaris continued onward, taking care not to stumble upon the shadowed steps. He'd still yet to hear or see anything down there. He felt that he might have been more comfortable if he'd run into trouble right away, rather than having to go look for it in the darkness.

That dim light coming from up ahead still cast nothing far enough to illuminate his position, but it did serve to provide a beacon. Perhaps half way along those stairs he was slowly climbing, he paused with his hand upon another timber support. He thought that he saw something rapidly pass between the source of light and where he was standing. It was either that, or he'd blinked. He couldn't tell which. He held in place for a moment, listening intently.

Just as he'd decided that there was nothing to hear and was ready to continue, he thought that he heard shuffling noises on the stone. Though it was hard to make out, something like a choking sound made it to his ears. That was followed by a dull thud, then a second thudding noise shortly afterward.

He imagined that even if he rushed forward, it would be far too late to put a stop to what he suspected those sounds to represent. Instead, he cautiously continued upward as quickly and quietly as he dared, keeping very close to the wall on his left and minding his step to avoid stumbling.

Just nearing the top of the steps, he could finally see the source of the light. A single lit lantern was sitting upon the stone floor, just near an open passageway off to the right of the space small ahead.

Without entering that space at the top of the stairs, Suvaris held position, trying to see or hear whoever or whatever was up there. He held his dagger at the ready in his right hand and remained prepared to unleash an ice attack from his left, but he had yet to observe any probable target.

Just as he'd decided that he was ready to edge forward, he found himself unable to move at all. It didn't feel quite like paralysis magic, but he seemed unable to move his limbs or even shift his weight. Aside from some movement of his eyes and still being able to breathe, every other part of his body refused to respond to his will. He was suitably alarmed by that circumstance, but seemingly unable to do anything about it.

~O~


	21. Chapter 21

Winds of the Ashfall: An Elder Scrolls Tale

Greg J Miller

~O~

Chapter 21

Tirdas the 13th of Hearthfire 4E71 Evening

Alaron Suvaris felt like he'd been frozen in place for a quite some time. In truth, he knew that it really hadn't been long at all, but it certainly felt far longer. He'd not seen any movement other than the mild flickering of the lantern light. The loudest noise to be heard seemed to be the sound of his own heart beating in his chest.

Though he remained unable to move any other part of his body, his eyes shifted and scanned for some sign of the reason behind his current circumstances. It still didn't seem like any kind of paralysis magic he'd ever experienced before. He could still feel the hilt of the dagger in his right hand. He could even feel the tickling sensation of the frost spell he'd prepared to be called to his left hand. It was just that he couldn't actually make any useful part of his body move. It seem more like his mental control over his body had been seized, rather than the way most paralysis spells generally affected someone.

To the best of his admittedly limited knowledge in that regard, variations of paralysis magic commonly made even breathing extremely difficult and usually caused the target to either rigidly topple or else just collapse in a heap after losing all bodily control as the initial grip of rigidity passed. None of that seemed evident.

He was beginning to wonder if there wasn't actually anybody there any more. He speculated that he might have stumbled into some sort of magical trap left behind. Perhaps, something that was sustained by a powerfully charged artefact or something of that nature. Whatever the case, it didn't seem to be wearing off or weakening and he remained completely helpless and vulnerable.

Finally, Suvaris observed a shimmering affect in the air just off to the right of the lantern on the stone floor. The blur resolved to reveal a tall figure wearing a dark cloak. The male Altmer was evidently adept at utilising a remarkably effective invisibility spell. He'd remained completely undetectable until the cloaking magic had passed.

Suvaris was anticipating the strong likelihood of attack and there seemed absolutely nothing that he could do about. He wasn't feeling any great fear or panic over the inevitability of the situation. If anything, he was feeling more frustrated and annoyed. Most of that was directed toward himself, for having entered into that circumstance so poorly prepared.

Rather than immediately pressing an attack, the Altmer seemed to pause to study his helpless target. He seemed to be looking him over like a trader examining an unusual specialty item brought into his store. When he finally spoke, he sounded rather dispassionate. "Well then, not a vampire… or a thrall… so it seems. Just an ordinary Dunmer."

The stranger remained exactly where he stood, but he subtly gestured with his hand.

Suvaris felt his tongue jerk free as his jaw fell loose. He realised that he could move his head, if only a little, but somehow he remained unable move his limbs or digits or anything else. He tested his voice. "I, ah… a Dunmer, yes. Perhaps, not so ordinary." He tried to sound a little more confident than he was feeling.

The High-Elf raised his eyebrows, then affected a frown, tilting his head slightly. "That voice. You seem… familiar. Perhaps, I've encountered you before?"

Suvaris shifted his head slightly, not quite managing to shake it. "I think… I think I'd certainly recall meeting someone like you."

The Altmer took half a step nearer. Suvaris would have tensed up in preparation for action, if he could actually move any part of his body other than his head.

Glaring directly into his eyes, the unfamiliar High-Elf nodded his head just a little. "Ah, yes. Now I see. You must be Suvaris. That Dunmer from… from Cheydinhal?"

"How? How would you know that?"

The Altmer's expression indicated that he thought it self-evident. "A mutual acquaintance, of course. Forester. It has been quite a while. However, I do recall the memory with some passing clarity. You're Suvaris. You both serve with the Fighters Guild."

"Forester's retired. Has been for about seven years."

The Altmer raised his eyebrows again. "Really? I suppose that he must be of such an age by now. It's easy to lose track of the passage of time."

"Who are you?"

The Altmer responded with a humourless chuckle. "I no longer have any name that matters." He reached under his cloak.

Suvaris wasn't certain whether to expect to see a weapon, a potion, or a letter of recommendation.

The Altmer instead withdrew a small metal object with an Imperial dragon symbol embossed on its surface. Though it was shaped like a coin, it was about twice the size. In the relative silence, it seemed that it emitted a slight buzzing noise in his hand. "The Penitus Oculatus refer to me as 'Agent Darkwater'. I suppose that someone among them finds that amusing."

"You're with the Penitus Oculatus?"

"Well no, not precisely. I do provide… certain services for the Empire, where our mutual interests intersect."

Suvaris suddenly recalled something that Forester had once told him. Something he'd spoken of in confidence, advising that he should keep it to himself. "I think I do know who you are. Forester spoke of it. Just the once."

"Really?" The Altmer seemed slightly bemused.

"The Ancient… that's what he called you. An ancient vampire of some kind. You… you assisted with the capture of foreign assassins in the Imperial City. Well, after a fashion."

The Ancient nodded. "Yes, after a fashion. That wasn't why was I there at that time. It was merely happenstance. Securing and delivering those inept assassins served only as a convenience, to keep anyone from obstructing my free passage."

"Forester told me something like that."

"Yes well, otherwise you'd likely not know of it. I understand that there would have been no public mention of anyone other than the Fighters Guild and the Imperial Legion."

"So, what are you doing here? More importantly, to me… in this moment… why am I being held by… by whatever is holding me?"

The Ancient raised his eyebrows again. "Oh yes, my apologies." He raised his hand, then paused before acting. "Provided that you'll refrain from using that dagger or the ice magic you've prepared, I'll release you."

Suvaris tried to nod with the restricted movement. "My word, of course."

The Ancient again gestured with his hand and Suvaris felt the return of control over his bodily movement. If he'd not been anticipating it, he might have lost his balance and fallen over. He took a lengthy moment to shake off the mild stiffness in his limbs. Still watching the Ancient, he chose to put away his dagger. He'd decided that it probably wouldn't have made any difference anyway, if that vampire actually intended him any harm.

The Ancient spoke again. "So then, I should ask why is it that you are here? I find it curious that you might be here for the same purpose as myself. A coincidence perhaps?"

Suvaris shook his head, noting that his own question had been turned back on him. "I couldn't say that… that I hold any clear idea of why you would be here… wherever this place is."

The vampire's silent expression prompted Suvaris to continue. "I'd observed someone sneaking into this place, possibly dragging a body… or something. Since it appeared highly suspicious, I took it upon myself to investigate."

The Ancient nodded. "Ah, so a coincidence then. I can assure you that it wasn't me that you observed. I was already here, waiting in anticipation of that other individual."

"Which individual?"

The Ancient opened his mouth to respond, then hesitated. After a short moment, he continued with a mild shrug. "Well, from what I do know of you from Forester's memories, I understand that you know how to maintain a confidence."

"When it's appropriate." Suvaris offered a little bow of his head.

The ancient vampire nodded slightly. "Yes, of course. Well, I am here in this city because I was invited to pursue some troublesome vampires in this region."

"By the Penitus Oculatus?"

"Well yes, that is something of what I do, these days. Accepting such invitations, where our mutual interests intersect. Eliminating certain threats." The Ancient paused before continuing. "From what I understand, a small group of ambitious vampires were said to be seeking out the remnants of an ancient bloodline. The are rumours of a nest of ancients resting in seclusion, hidden somewhere in this region. I understand that they intended to locate those ancients and revive them."

"You're eliminating other vampires?"

The Ancient blinked and raised his eyebrows. "Well yes, of course. The last thing that this world needs is more ancient vampires. Though the ones that I have pursued here were not yet ancients. I should think it best for all that they never gained the opportunity to pursue that ambition."

Suvaris frowned. "If I recall, from what Forester told me, he didn't think you cared to take interest in anything of the world."

The Ancient shrugged again. "Well no, at that time… I suppose that would have been an accurate assessment. I suppose that I have him to blame."

Suvaris' expression prompted for further explanation.

The Ancient elaborated. "Despite my firm preference to quietly end my days in relative seclusion, Forester managed to awaken my sense of…" He shook his head. "Well, I suppose that I came to have something of a change of heart, with regard to certain concerns."

"After meeting with Forester?" Though it was some time ago, Suvaris couldn't recall any mention of anything like that.

"Oh no, not immediately. Forester was not at all quite that persuasive." The Ancient paused with a bemused expression. His expression again altered, as he seemed to recall a different thought. "One of the Emperor's agents eventually managed to track me down to my sanctuary in the west. That should have ended rather badly for that Imperial inspector. However, he brought an unexpected offering of information… regarding vampire rogues of a certain bloodline, gathering in the vicinity of Daggerfall." He shook his head. "In short, I was moved to take action… to play a part in forestalling the rise of a growing vampire resurgence in that region."

"A resurgence? You took on a vampire army, or the like?"

"Hardly an army. Though, I do imagine that was something in the planning."

Suvaris affected a confused expression. "I still find it rather difficult to comprehend your… motivation."

The Ancient tilted his head slightly. "Well, I imagine that Forester might have only spoken of my indifference to most matters. At the time, I did also indicate to him that I had gained some passing interest in recent political upheavals. Some of that arose from learning of the struggle between that new Emperor and certain dealings with those provinces which had broken away."

"The Aldmeri Dominion… and the others?"

"Not the Khajiit or the Argonians, as such. However, I held some greater concern over that nationalistic cabal… those Thalmor clans, which had taken over the land of my mortal ancestors. I had thought that the Septim line of Emperors had brought about a lasting end to that kind of disunity across Tamriel. I found it rather unsettling to learn otherwise. Though my time in the world, as one of you, might well be done, I hold no desire to... to see it all burn."

Suvaris still appeared as though he wasn't quite following what the Ancient was talking about. "What would any of that have to do with vampires in Daggerfall?"

The Ancient responded with a surprised expression. "Hmm? Oh, nothing directly, of course. However in a somewhat similar fashion, I also hold no desire to see this world overrun by vampire armies. No desire to witness my fate forced upon others. I was not a willing conscript to the warring vampire clans… those of my time."

Suvaris wasn't sure that he understood all what he was hearing. He chose to merely accept the general tone of it. His thoughts suddenly returned to what had drawn him into that place in the first instance. "So, who was I following down here?"

"That would have been one those vampires I was tracking, of course. The last one, I believe. He has been properly dealt with." He stepped to one side and drew attention to the partially desiccated corpse lying upon the stone just around the corner.

It had been positioned just out of Suvaris' direct line of sight. He hadn't seen it until the Ancient shifted aside and pointed it out. Though it had yet to turn to dust, the corpse had deteriorated enough that he could no longer easily tell whether it had once been merish, beastfolk, or human.

The other consideration returned to Suvaris' thoughts. "What of… what of… whatever that vampire had dragged down there?"

The Ancient shook his head slightly. "That unfortunate soul? I'm afraid that other vampire's victim had already been drained far too much. That was quite unnecessary, in my view. He had expired before being brought up to this section of the tunnel."

Suvaris' attention was directed toward the other prone figure lying further inside, just around the corner upon the stone floor. Moving past the Ancient, he took a cautious step nearer. Once he could actually see, his breath caught in his throat, just as he observed the colouring of the partially covered face. For a brief instant, he thought that he was looking upon a dead Dunmer. He feared that it could be Travlon.

A great wave of relief washed over him as he observed that it was not his brother's grandson. However, that feeling became quickly subsumed by a sense of guilt. He felt a slight shame that was he so glad that someone else had died instead of the younger Suvaris.

Shifting the head so that he could see more clearly, Suvaris quickly realised that he was looking upon that tanned Bosmer he'd seen in the tavern less than two hours before. He still acknowledged that it could just as easily have been Travlon, since he'd likely departed the tavern at around the same general time.

The Ancient had been watching Suvaris intently, evidently observing the shift in his expressions as he looked over the dead Bosmer.

"Was that Bosmer someone that you knew?"

Suvaris looked back somewhat vacantly. "No. Just… just someone I'd noticed in the tavern… just before… when I was looking for… for someone else."

The Ancient didn't offer further response.

Suvaris looked up, then glanced about what he could see of the shadowed walls and stone alcoves. "What is this place?"

"As I understand it, these tunnels seem to back up onto the dungeons located beneath Castle Dour. The Imperial outpost in this city. I expect that it is likely part of a section which has fallen to disuse and since been sealed off from the rest. Presumably, those vampires found it suitable for their purposes, when gathering in this city."

Suvaris returned a silent nod, accepting the explanation.

The Ancient tilted his head, considering a passing thought. "As I understand it, there is no longer any Fighters Guild in this region. Tell me, what reason brought you all the way from Cheydinhal, to this northern location?"

Suvaris released a weary sigh. He then went on to provide a rather abbreviated version of the sequence of events which provoked him to go off in search of someone going by the same name as his deceased brother. Without great detail, he spoke of the loss of his family many decades before, as he understood it to have transpired. He shared how recently learning that at least of them might have survived, motivated his investigation. He volunteered only the basics of what followed. He also explained how the journey across Morrowind to Mournhold eventually led to some tenuous confirmation of his suspicions and then travelling upon a trade vessel in pursuit of that uncertain goal. The account ended with some detail of how he'd just found and spoken with his brother's grandson in that tavern.

Once Suvaris was fully done, the Ancient nodded thoughtfully. "I understand. A matter of family."

Suvaris' silent expression conveyed his scepticism over the notion that the vampire could really understand anything more than his words. He imagined that the essence of it all would have been completely lost upon him.

Without really needing to, the Ancient volunteered something. "After a fashion, I also lost my family because of the turmoil of war."

"Your family?"

"My mortal family."

"Your family was… was lost to war?"

"It was more the case that it was I who was lost to my family. I was taken from my former life and turned by vampires. Conscripted and pressed into service to fight in the struggles between warring vampire clans across the sea from my homeland." The Ancient paused, looking away. "I was made a monster. For a time, I behaved as one. Far longer than I care to recall. In the end, after countless years… and struggles… I became the last of my kind. The last of my specific line. In itself, a seemingly hollow achievement, after the fact." He paused again, shifting his position and meeting Suvaris' gaze. "Were the past something that could be changed, I would have much preferred to have lived out my mortal days with my wife and son." He paused yet again.

Pulling his cloak partly to one side, the Ancient drew attention to an ornate silver pin upon the front of his vest. The broad head of the trinket featured an intricate pattern of elven design. It was vaguely reminiscent of a bird in flight. "This is all that I have to provoke faded memory of my mortal family. If the opportunity remains in place to reclaim connection to your living family, then I might urge you to pursue that matter further, while you still can."

Suvaris released a little sigh. "Though I lost my… my immediate family, some time ago, I am glad to have learned of Travlon." He paused on a frown. "He did not seem to… to embrace the notion of viewing me as family. Even so, he did not reject it outright. Perhaps I will pursue the matter further, as circumstance permits."

The Ancient returned a solemn nod, seemingly indicating that he had no more say on the matter.

Suvaris looked away, considering the two corpses upon the cold stone. "What about these bodies?"

The Ancient shrugged dismissively. "The remains of that vampire will have likely turned to ash and rags before long. I will be informing my Penitus Oculatus contact of the other one. I fully expect that they will have it dealt with in the appropriate manner."

Suvaris was not feeling perfectly at ease with either the detail or tone of the Ancient's suggestions. However, he held no desire to involve himself in anything that fell under the purview of the Penitus Oculatus. Accordingly, he reluctantly chose to leave it at that.

Shifting posture and tone once more, the Ancient spoke again. "If I may, I would ask just one thing of you."

Suvaris assumed he knew what was expected of him. "I assure you that I have no intention of breaking confidence. It will be as though I was never here."

The Ancient shook his head a little. "No, no, not that. When you next see Forester, I would ask that you tell him… well, merely pass on my regards to him. I may not again have the opportunity to encounter him, before his days are done."

Suvaris returned a nod. "Yes, I can do that." He paused on a thought. "You said that you held him to 'blame' for your… for your change in circumstances."

"Blame… is perhaps the wrong word. Forester merely played some part in planting the seed of an idea. Something to be considered. Only in the fullness of time, I later found some renewed purpose. Something more useful than merely waiting for my final days. An opportunity to atone somewhat for past misdeeds. That is all."

Suvaris nodded. "I understand. I'll let him know."

Seemingly satisfied, the Ancient again nodded his silent acceptance.

The following exchange remained brief, representing a final farewell of sorts. The Ancient recommended that Suvaris exercise some care in departing. He suggested that it might be best to remain unobserved. He further advised Suvaris to leave first, suggesting that he would be departing shortly afterward.

* * *

After climbing back up from the darkened tunnel, Suvaris paused a moment to check that nobody seemed to be in clear view, then climbed down to the ground. Of course that far back from the street, it seemed nearly just as dark outside as it had been down in the tunnel down below. Leaving the back of that alchemy store behind, he headed for the dim pools of light partially illuminating the street.

He absently noted that the rain seemed to be easing at that moment. The persistent drizzle had seemingly eased to a fine sprinkling of mist. Given that the dark blanket of overhead cloud cover allowed no moonlight to penetrate, he didn't know if the rain was truly passing or else pausing just momentarily. Even so, he remained hopeful.

That second time he found himself pausing to consider his path, Suvaris decided not to leave the city by the main entrance after all. He instead headed back for that sheltered passage, to make his way via that enclosed stairway down to the waterfront area below Solitude.

Aside from passing by a weary city guard at that same place near the top of the sheltered stairway, Suvaris encountered no one else along the way. He did notice a couple of figures headed for the piers, once he'd emerged from the cliff face down by the river. However, they were far ahead of him and had disappeared for their destinations long before he was near.

In due course, Suvaris arrived at the docks. Another brief shower passed over as he was walking there. Afterward, the rain had again come close to stopping altogether. Even so, it remained uncertain whether it likely to be clearing or otherwise.

He made his way directly to the Zamsar, then headed straight down to the vessel's cargo hold. Picking his way toward the crates of chilled cargo, he found Adras Rurvyn.

"Suvaris, yer back?" Adras appeared slightly surprised.

"Yes, only just now. I was just coming to check on the cargo."

Adras gestured toward the crates with his hand. "Ain't no need. I just finished checkin' on it. Only the frozen stuff needed lookin' to. Oughta be all good until the mornin', by my reckonin'."

"As you say." Suvaris nodded his acceptance.

Adras suddenly sounded a little weary. "Dunno if we're goin' anywhere tomorrow. Still hafta wait an' see, I s'pose."

Suvaris returned a silent nod of acceptance.

Adras looked like he was about to leave, then he paused, looking back to the other Dunmer with a curious expression. "Ya end up findin' that fella ya was lookin' for?

Suvaris nodded wearily. "Yes. I did."

Adras recognised something of the brevity in the tone of that response. "That's good then. Ain't it? S'pose ya can tell me about later, unless ya don't wanna say?"

Suvaris remained reserved. "Yes, perhaps later."

He silently watched Adras head off from the Zamsar's cargo hold. He noted that he was feeling just a little hungry, but in that particular moment, he didn't really feel like eating in the ship's mess.

After a few moments, Suvaris distractedly headed for the bathroom facilities to deal with a pressing concern. He intended to afterward make way his way for that tiny cabin that he shared with that other Dunmer. He held to a passing hope that Adras might not be there, or else was already sleeping, as he fully intended to try to get some peaceful rest after the long and tiring day. He'd given no further thought to what the next day might deliver.

~O~


	22. Chapter 22

Winds of the Ashfall: An Elder Scrolls Tale

Greg J Miller

~O~

Chapter 22

Loredas the 29th of Frostfall 4E71 Afternoon

Alaron Suvaris looked out ahead of the bow of the Zamsar. He knew that it would be his last opportunity up on the deck of the vessel before his time on that ship was done. A mild southerly breeze was blowing up the Niben from behind along that last stretch before Lake Rumare. For the past few hours, the White-Gold Tower of the Imperial City had been looming in the distance, growing ever nearer as the ship sailed up river toward the Imperial Isle.

Under the relatively clear blue skies, the breeze on the air didn't really seem quite so cool as some of those weather conditions he'd observed over the past months. Though perhaps still not quite as warm as it had been much further south, central Cyrodiil could often be pleasantly temperate that late in the autumn. That certainly seemed to be the case that year.

With the City Isle coming into clear view, Suvaris understood that he'd soon be back on dry land for good, having served his time as an icer on the Zamsar and completed his agreement with regard to his passage. After passing eight long weeks on that vessel, he was more than ready to leave it behind.

More than six weeks had passed since departing the Skyrim capital in the far north around the middle of Hearthfire. Despite those terrible weather conditions, which hounded them into Solitude Harbour and then pestered them for more than a day, the worst of that weather passed rather quickly. During the following day, though the skies remained cloudy, the persistent rain mostly cleared away and provided some tenuous promise of fairer days ahead.

With that change in weather, the vessels at port started departing Solitude during the late morning of that day. Due to that development, Suvaris didn't even have the opportunity to again speak with Travlon on that day. The Anticlere Flyer had set off from port about two hours before the Zamsar.

Even so, since both vessels were sailing in the same direction and effectively headed for exactly the same destination, he'd remained cautiously confident that another opportunity to catch up with Travlon would present itself soon enough.

After making it out to sea on that day, past those reefs near the outer bay north of Solitude's lighthouse, the sailing soon shifted from difficult to merely slightly difficult. Some threatening cloud remained in view as the Zamsar sailed about the north-east of High Rock, but nothing much had come of it. Accordingly, though the sea hardly seemed perfectly becalmed, the passage across the north had not been quite as bad as feared. Rogue ice drifts remained a threat, but the weather proved somewhat kinder over the following days.

The path of both of those long haul trade vessels did not involve approaching either of those lesser ports at Jehanna or Farrun, in the north-east of High Rock. Only a brief stop at the harbour of Northpoint was scheduled.

Since leaving the Haafingar region, the Anticlere Flyer had remained only hours ahead of the Zamsar. The sails of that other vessel could be periodically observed in the distance, sometimes dipping below the visible horizon, then again rising back into view as the reach between them briefly closed.

At that next port, the two ships had been docked together only a short time and neither remained long at all. The Flyer had been departing Northpoint as the Zamsar was still shifting cargo. On that day, there had again been no opportunity for Suvaris to catch Travlon.

Even so, both the Zamsar and the Anticlere Flyer remained only a relatively short distance apart over the following days, as they sailed around the top of High Rock. Both vessels were bound for the westernmost and southernmost tip of that province.

Only a few days after departing Northpoint Harbour, the Zamsar eventually made port at the western docks of Daggerfall. The Flyer was already docked and unloading cargo by the time that the Zamsar arrived.

With the exchange of trade cargo and the replenishing of fresh water and other supplies, Suvaris understood that the Zamsar would be remaining at port for the better part of two days. He also understood that it would be much the same for the Anticlere Flyer.

As soon as he was able to do so, Suvaris took the opportunity to go seek out Travlon once again. He soon learned that Travlon was already ashore with some other sailors, when he made inquiry at the Flyer.

Accordingly, Suvaris headed off into town to see if he could find him. Eventually, he managed to catch up with Travlon at one of Daggerfall's taverns. Upon that second meeting, the younger Dunmer appeared somewhat more receptive than their first encounter. Evidently, he'd had some time to consider the tone of their first meeting.

It was fair to observe that the younger Suvaris remained somewhat apprehensive, but at the same time, he seemed a little more amenable to the notion that the older Suvaris represented some sort of blood family, albeit somewhat removed by the passage of time.

Suvaris believed that Travlon had adjusted his earlier predisposition toward general indifference, instead taking some greater interest in Suvaris' perspective. That seemed to come out in the conversation as further detail was exchanged.

Making no firm promises, Travlon had suggested that he might make some effort to keep in contact in the future. Of course, he held little certainty over where he might be at any particular time, if he intended to continue to work the trade vessels. Even so, understanding that Suvaris could be contacted by mail sent to the Cheydinhal Fighters Guild, he suggested that he might try to send letters to that location from time to time.

Though Suvaris would not really be able to reciprocate in the same manner, he expressed his appreciation. Even if he couldn't send any communications likely to reach Travlon, he was glad to know of the ongoing well being of his brother's grandson.

That second farewell passed with greater optimism than the previous one. There'd been some suggestion that they might meet again at the Imperial City. Both of their vessels were expected to be there around the time of the Emperor's Day festival. Though it was not a certainty, there remained some expectation of remaining at port for that celebration.

After departing Daggerfall, the two vessels' paths diverged. Suvaris understood that the Flyer was headed directly for Sentinel, then off to the isle of Stros M'kai, before eventually continuing onward toward the Imperial City. The Zamsar would be sailing up Iliac Bay to Wayrest, before stopping at Sentinel on the way back. The Zamsar would not be going to Stros M'kai at all, but sailing directly for Rihad and Anvil.

Before departing the Iliac Bay region, Suvaris had the opportunity to replenish his supply of books. During the stopover in Wayrest, he'd even had the chance to acquire a proper haircut. By his own reckoning, his normally shortly cropped hair had started to grow far too long by the time he'd made it to that port.

After departing Hammerfell's capital, the next leg of the voyage took several days to complete. Even under favourable winds, the journey from Sentinel to Rihad seemed long and tedious. By contrast, the trip from Rihad to Anvil passed in less than a day.

Though stretches of the voyage did seem long and often tedious, Suvaris remained somewhat glad to have had the opportunity to see some of those western cities. In all likelihood, he would have otherwise never found reason to have visited those far-flung places like Daggerfall, Wayrest or Sentinel.

Upon reaching Cyrodiil's Gold Coast, Suvaris learned that the Anticlere Flyer had already been to Anvil and left port only the day before. That hadn't really been much of a surprise. He'd already expected as much.

Suvaris had also not been so surprised by something else that resulted from his brief visit to a dockside tavern by Anvil's harbour. In that place, he'd encountered a boisterous comrade from days gone by.

Since his retirement from Bruma's Fighter Guild, Frederick the Loud had relocated to Anvil to a small farmland home just outside the city. Though the noisy Nord made his coin from his small farm, it seemed that he delighted in spending much of it upon the local ale.

Though Suvaris might have preferred something less noisy, he accepted Frederick's invitation to sit down for a few drinks in the dockside tavern. Of course, Frederick did most of the drinking, as they caught up on matters since they had last encountered one another.

Given that he needed to back aboard the Zamsar in a timely fashion, Suvaris managed to offer a courteous farewell, before Frederick was completely drunk.

From Anvil, the Zamsar would be sailing right around Valenwood and Elsweyr without visiting any harbour. Not even the once busy port city of Senchal was on the itinerary.

Suvaris had heard that there were some other independent vessels on shorter runs that commonly visited Senchal. There were also Khajiiti run ships out of that port. However, most vessels on Imperial contracts tended to avoid ports of the southern Kingdoms of Elsweyr.

Of course before even nearing the Khajiit territories, such vessels were not at all permitted to approach any of those other ports controlled by the Aldmeri Dominion. Even sailing those straits between the former Summerset Isles and Valenwood provided for some elevated tension among the sailors.

At the very least, there was far less fear of encountering any pirate vessels in that particular region. However, observing the sails of the Aldmeri Naval patrols in the distance did provide for some nervous moments.

With all the continuing disunity and chaos throughout the squabbling Khajiiti regions, the possibility of encountering pirate vessels anywhere along Elsweyr's Quin'rawl Peninsular remained in mind. Sailing well clear of that coastline had been the order of business, until eventually turning north into Topal Bay, headed for the Niben.

Of course, the Zamsar managed to eventually arrive at Leyawiin for a brief stop, without any concerning incidents along the way. Suvaris learned that they'd just missed the Anticlere Flyer once more. Still, that meant that it was quite likely that both vessels would be moored in the harbour of the Imperial City at the same time. Soon enough, his long voyage around mainland Tamriel would draw to a close.

* * *

With the afternoon beginning to grow late, Suvaris needed to head back down below on the final approach to the harbour of the Imperial City. With the other sailors all busy above deck, he set to attending to his icing duties for the very last time. As he understood it, a replacement would be sought to take over before departing the capital city. Provided that someone was available, the office of the Imperial Trading Company would most likely be able to accommodate the need.

From what he'd heard, it was not uncommon for students of the Arcane University to sign up for those sorts of contracts. It was viewed as a good opportunity to gain experience and coin for younger mages working their way through their studies.

By the time that Suvaris had finished up with his duties and packed away his meagre possessions ready for departure, the Zamsar was fully docked and making preparations for unloading cargo. With everything else going on in the city, there wouldn't be any loading of new cargo until Morndas morning.

Before disembarking the vessel, Suvaris took the time to offer courteous farewell to Adras Rurvyn and those other few crew of the Zamsar who'd become friendly acquaintances over past weeks. Of course, that was hardly such a long list. Many of the crew remained perfectly indifferent to his presence or absence.

Just once more, Suvaris had passed on some casual advice to Adras. Of course, it was inspired by that advice that he'd received from that most unlikely source. Suvaris suggested that Adras should give some thought to catching up with his cousin Faryl and his brothers whenever the circumstance again arose. After all, it could one day be far too late. Though not quite so motivated as Suvaris, Adras accepted it in the spirit it was offered and wished him luck before they parted ways.

* * *

Dusk was almost upon him as Suvaris stepped onto the broad stone docks of the harbour. Looking about, he'd taken note of the three vessels of the Imperial Navy anchored in the harbour. Aside from smaller fishing boats, he also observed three other trade vessels at port. He'd quickly noted that one of those ships was indeed the Anticlere Flyer.

Before going anywhere else, Suvaris headed for the Flyer to make inquiry after Travlon. Without great surprise, he quickly learned that along with Travlon, most of the crew had been granted leave for the festival. Of course, that meant that Travlon could have gone just about anywhere.

After not finding Travlon at either of the drinking establishments of the Waterfront District, he turned toward the path leading to the main city. Suvaris knew well enough that the younger Suvaris could have gone to any of a dozen places up in the Imperial City. Of course, the Tiber Septim Hotel could be reasonably ruled out. Only the wealthy and influential were commonly welcome in that establishment.

Releasing a heavy sigh, Suvaris accepted that he could easily pass the entire night roaming the city and still not manage to find Travlon. Especially so, during the evening before the Emperor's Day festival.

He instead decided to follow his original intent, as had been tentatively arranged several months before. At the least, he knew exactly where to go to meet up with his former comrades at the inn over at Weye. Though it hardly represented any certainty, he hoped that he might find Travlon during the festivities of the following day. Unless he planned to pass his time holed up in taverns for the duration of his leave, Suvaris expected it fairly likely that Travlon would be spotted somewhere about the open areas where the festival activities would be taking place on Sundas. He'd just need to keep a sharp eye out as he was wandering those open spaces.

Just past the harbour lighthouse below the city, Suvaris turned off and followed the wagon trail skirting along the outside of the tall walls of the Imperial City. It was already dark by the time that he'd made it to the main road at the west of the city walls.

Along the way, he'd observed a few small encampments by the wagons parked along the trail. He'd seen the like before, during previous festivals. He also took note of the patrols of Legion soldiers keeping an eye on things.

Just by the main gates in the western city wall, it could be seen that the large stabling facilities just across the road were bursting to capacity. Again, he'd seen the like before. Since he was currently without a horse, it wasn't his concern.

Suvaris turned away from the city gates and headed off down the road toward the huge stone bridge over the narrow of Lake Rumare, leading to the village of Weye.

Though the evening was growing dark, he could see well enough to see where he was going. Masser had passed full about a week ago, so it wasn't yet in the sky. Secunda was only appearing above as a partial disk. Even so, those burning braziers along the bridge served as adequate beacon. Beyond that, he could just make out the lights of Weye on the other side across the waters. He only needed to keep an eye upon the cobbled roadway to avoid stepping in fresh horse-shit and the like.

At that time of the early evening, the traffic appeared relatively light. He'd passed only one small wagon head for the city and there was little foot traffic to be seen. It was fair to assume that mostly everyone had already made it to where they might be going before then.

There were only a few horses stabled at that rudimentary facility in the main street, situated across the road from the Wawnet Inn. That was hardly a surprise. He assumed that most people headed for the Imperial City were probably already up there. Fewer individuals would be stopping in Weye, than those that were merely passing through the village.

Suvaris observed a couple of Legion soldiers just leaving the inn as he was nearing the place. Presumably, they'd been taking a break from road patrol duties. Aside from exchanging a friendly nod, the soldiers paid him little mind as they headed across the road to collect their horses.

* * *

Suvaris stepped inside the Wawnet Inn and then made his way along the slightly cramped entry corridor, toward the oil lamp burning on the wall ahead. He turned right toward the main tavern area. At a glance, the place seemed just as it had the last time that he'd been there. Those high-set wooden shutters along the southern and eastern walls, only added during the last run of renovations, had been pulled closed to keep out the cooling evening air. During the day, those windows allowed plenty of daylight into the place. All those additional oil lamps added throughout the tavern served to make the place feel brighter and more welcoming than it had been many decades before.

There were a few voices coming from ahead, but it didn't sound as though the place was as terribly crowded as it might be on a typical Loredas. As he'd already surmised, most passing travellers were most likely already up in the city. Suvaris expected that most of the patrons in the tavern in that evening would be locals from the village.

Just as Suvaris neared the corner, the Bosmer woman behind the service counter shifted to catch his attention. Her face immediately lit up with recognition. Before saying anything, her partly opened mouth turned to a broad smile.

She'd been working there for the past couple of decades, even since before the former owner of the Wawnet had passed from the world. She'd been there since shortly after Suvaris' former comrades had rescued her from the Aldmeri border near Skingrad.

Sitting behind the Bosmer upon a shelf, the sealed burial urn remained in its position of prominence, serving as monument to Nerussa's memory.

The subdued noise of the fairly light crowd offered only mild distraction. Without yet looking about the rest of the place, Suvaris looked to the Bosmer behind the counter. He spoke up first.

"Belwen." He offered her a courteous nod. His restrained smile gently reflected her warmer expression.

"Suvaris. We've been expecting you. Well, sort of." Maintaining her smile, Belwen nodded toward a table off to her left, not so far from the service bar.

Following her gaze, Suvaris then noticed Malcolm Forester and Rena seated at the table nearest to the far end of the counter. Alex Pinewatch was sitting just next to them.

Rena nudged her husband with her elbow, prompting him to turn around. The Imperial man in his early sixties suddenly noticed the familiar Dunmer by the counter. Though he still kept his hair neatly cropped in the same style he'd worn for decades, it had faded to light gray with the passage of time. The Colovian man also still maintained his trimmed goatee beard, though it had also turned just as gray.

Forester grinned broadly. "Suvaris. We were just speaking of you, a little earlier."

With a somewhat more restrained grin, Suvaris inclined his head. "Only good things to say in my absence, I should hope?"

"Of course, of course." Forester returned a mischievous smirk and a wink of his eye, as though he meant to suggest otherwise.

Rena spoke up. "We got your message. Sent from Arvon. Saying you'd gone off to Morrowind." The Colovian woman was about seven years her husband's junior and at a glance, didn't even look quite her age. Evidently, dyeing potions were use to keep the gray from appearing in her dark brown hair.

Alex interjected. "Belwen said that Arvon passed through here recently. He said that you had been gone for quite a while." 'Young' Alexander Pinewatch hardly seemed quite so young any more. The Nord had to be about fifty by that time. Even so, given his lean frame and generally mild appearance, he hardly looked so ruddy as many other Nords of such an age. The gray was only just starting to show in his light brown hair.

Removing his ebony helmet, Suvaris returned another nod of acknowledgment. "Yes, I did go back to Morrowind for a time. In fact, I've only just returned… though not actually returning via Cheydinhal."

Forester shook his head with a slightly confused expression.

Glancing about briefly, Suvaris continued. "Is Northwind… er, Monika… not about this evening?" He still commonly thought of her by her former family name, even though Alex and Monika had been married for the better part of two decades. Since shortly after she'd taken over running the Wawnet.

Alex responded. "She just ducked out, back over to the farmhouse, to go get something… and to make sure that Nikula and Erik aren't starting any local warfare." Of course, he was referring to their two children, now aged in their mid-teen years.

Forester patted his hands upon the table. "Old friend, please… please come join us at the table. We've already eaten, but I'm sure that Belwen can accommodate your requirements, if you've not yet had the opportunity."

A brief exchange passed between Belwen and Suvaris, as he suggested that he'd be fine with whatever the others had eaten and she briefly clarified what she could provide for him.

Turning back to the table where the others were seated, Suvaris removed his gauntlets and unburdened himself of his travelling pack, intending to lower it down to the floor.

Alex spoke up again. "I am fairly sure that Monika held the Titus room upstairs for you, just in case." He turned to look to Belwen with a questioning glance.

The Bosmer confirmed. "Yes, it's the only one left."

Alex indicated the travelling pack and equipment. "I can take care of that for you."

"No need. It can wait." Suvaris set down his gauntlets and helmet upon his pack next to the chair he was about to sit on.

Forester looked to Suvaris with a curious expression. "So then, where did you just come from, if not from Cheydinhal?"

"I've only just come from the docks, at the waterfront of the Imperial City."

"Ah, so you've been in the city?"

"Well, no. Not as such."

Forester's confused expression served as enough prompt.

Suvaris continued. "Well, for the past several weeks, I've been on a sailing vessel."

Alex interjected. "We thought you were headed for Morrowind… been in Morrowind?"

Rena added her thoughts. "Arvon said you went off looking a relative over there?

Suvaris nodded. "Well, yes. I was in Morrowind… and I was looking for a… a possible relative." He paused. "Well, that pursuit across my homeland eventually placed me upon a vessel. A long haul trade vessel, sailing right around Tamriel."

"A trade vessel?" Forester still appeared confused.

"Well, yes. At the time, it seemed the best way in the circumstances. Following the person that I was looking for. And so, in order to acquire passage… I needed to trade my services, icing perishable cargo in the ship's hold."

Raising his eyebrows in surprise, Forester snickered. "As a… as a frost merchant?"

Suvaris returned a silent nod.

Forester suddenly seemed unable to contain the urge to laugh out loud.

Rena elbowed her husband, causing him to sputter toward relative quiet.

Forester held out his hands in surrender. "Forgive me… forgive me, my friend. The thought of the formidable Alaron Suvaris… in the cargo hold of… well, it's… it's…" He managed to suppress his urge to chuckle that second time, if just barely.

Suvaris maintained his composure. "It was not particularly enjoyable and certainly rather tedious work. However, it seemed the best option… in the circumstances."

"Suvaris?" The familiar voice heard coming from behind the Dunmer belonged to Monika. She had evidently just returned to the inn.

The fair-haired woman of mostly Nordic appearance was perhaps half a decade older than Forester. However due to her mother's Altmer blood, she looked possibly a little younger than Alex. Otherwise, only the subtle pointing of the tips of her ears and something of her colouring offered any outward indication that she was not fully Nord.

After an exchange of brief greetings, Monika was brought up to speed upon what she'd just missed during her absence.

Monika voiced the obvious question. "So then, did you end up finding who you were looking for?"

"Well, yes… eventually. And someone else…. unexpected." Suvaris passed a brief sideways glance in Forester's direction, without immediately addressing the reason. "Though I'd believed all my immediate family long gone, it seems that unknown to me, just one had survived… leaving behind another… my brother's grandson."

"Really?" Forester raised his eyebrows.

Rena expressed her sincere interest. "So, where is he?"

"At this moment… somewhere in the Imperial City, I believe. I hope to run into him tomorrow, at some point."

Rena briefly glanced to her husband. Then turning back toward Suvaris, she shook her head slightly. "I'm not sure I'm following all of this. I thought you had no close family… but… but now you've found this… this grandson of your brother's?"

Suvaris tilted his head. "Well, it's really something of a long story."

"But one with a satisfactory outcome?" Forester invited him continue.

Suvaris returned a thoughtful nod, pausing upon a thought. He'd just travelled most of the way around Tamriel for a blood relative he didn't even know of until just weeks before. He was just thinking that in an odd sort of way, the Fighters Guild had served as a family of sorts for the past several decades. Though it came to him as something of an unexpected revelation, he accepted the realisation that those former comrades seated about the table had come to represent a notable part of his surrogate family throughout recent years.

Glancing about those other faces around him, Suvaris spoke again. "As I suggested, it is quite a long story."

Forester responded with a warm smile. "Well, we have some time, if you want to tell us, that is."

Nodding thoughtfully, Suvaris returned a slight smile, then started to share his tale.

~O~

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Afterword: If you made it this far, feel free to pass comment (whether privately or publicly). As always, special thanks to those who provided assistance and advice with these stories, including those other writers providing comment via review or PM. Also, friends who acted as sounding-boards during development and revisions. Special mention for The Imperial Library and UESPWiki websites for providing such a wealth of useful information. And of course, the folks at Bethesda for creating the detailed universe of The Elders Scrolls.

Additionally, I do recommend checking out some other stories by other authors both in my 'Favorites list' and on the following 'community listing' on this site: "The Untold Tales of Tamriel".

... /community/The-Untold-Tales-of-Tamriel/113832/99/0/1/0/0/0/0/


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